Nightmares and Their Mistress
by beadlebug3
Summary: Five years after the end of the Second Wizarding War, Hermione Granger finds herself a divorced 23 year old with more publicity on her than she would like. With raging nightmares and a lonely bed, she rediscovers the turmoil of living a life alone, until a new flame and old enemy rekindle a life she though she had finally left behind. Rated M for future content, Dramione.
1. Chapter One:A Story to Tell at Christmas

The afternoon was a dreary one. Rain poured outside onto the London pavement as Muggles bustled from one building to another under smooth, black umbrellas. The weather was a perfect match to Hermione Granger's mood. She had walked into the Ministry with her hair soaked and frizzing, and it took all she could to not burst into tears when she arrived at her office that morning.

Her sweet secretary brought her a cup of tea and canceled all of her meetings for that day, allowing her boss to catch up on work and relax. Had it not been for the pile of work sitting untouched on her desk, Hermione would have loved to stay home curled up with a book or two and a bottle of Firewhiskey. However after reminding herself that Hermione Jean Granger did not miss work for any ailment of her health, she forced herself out of bed with the tears still running down her face from the night before.

The young witch sighed deeply at the pile of work that was beginning to recede before her. She had decided to take lunch in her office to make the workload disappear faster, but so far there were more crumbs on her paperwork than notes. It had been a long morning, and thanks to her secretary there had been no visitors—even Ginny and Harry had been banned from her office, despite their protests. She wanted her workday to be quiet and drama free…

"Ms. Granger?" The large wooden door opened quietly and Hermione's secretary poked her head through the crack of door. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley is here with the, uh, paperwork. He's insisting that he come in and give it to you himself but I took it from him and made him wait in the hall until I got your 'okay'."

Hermione sighed deeply. She knew she couldn't avoid him forever. "That's alright, Gracelynn. You can let him in."

The girl nodded and shut the door behind her. Standing up too fast, Hermione nearly fell over once more as her vision was stolen from her for a few seconds. She tried her best to clean herself up, but her hair was untamable, much like when she was a first year, and she hadn't bothered wearing her nicest of work clothes. Her entire appearance was utterly atrocious, but it would have to do.

"'Mione?" A mess of red hair and freckles emerged from behind the door. He wasn't dressed much better than Hermione in a suit and robes that were too small and a bit of dirt on the side of his nose. As a pair, they must have looked as if they were just getting onto the Hogwarts Express back when they were eleven. The thought brought tears to her eyes and she quickly wiped them away.

"Ronald."

He stood uncomfortably. At least she knew this was just as hard for him as it was for her. "I, uh, I brought the papers. I've already signed them all, and if you do your part now, I can have this all settled within the afternoon."

She nodded quietly taking the stack from him. Quickly flipping through the pages, it shows that he would not touch a single knut from her vault at Gringotts, and she was entitled to the flat that had been destroyed the night earlier due to a vicious Oppugno jinx. "I do still love you, 'Mione. But we're just too different. You working here at the Ministry and me helping George at the shop, it's just impossible to find anything in common anymore."

Hermione just stood there staring at the bits of paper. She wanted to cry and scream out how they had gotten through five years after the Second Wizarding War then, dating and being married. She wanted to ask if she was just a convenience to him, but she knew that wasn't true. She could feel their relationship disintegrating every day, and the only thing she could do was sign the papers and let him on his way. Maybe being married to him was a convenience to her, not having to worry about going out into the world and dating. Not having to listen to her mum talk about the nice muggle boy she knew from the shop or see the look on her dad's face when he told her she should stop working so hard and settle down. No, she hadn't even told them about the divorce. It would be disastrous. Married at 20, divorced at 22, now that would be a story to tell at Christmas.

She quickly signed the papers, trying to wave away any unnecessary emotions or thoughts. This was just as much her fault as it was his, and there wasn't any point in losing her head over it. She had to remain logical. She had to remain in control.

She finished signing the papers and handed them back to Ron whose hands rested in his robes pockets. He looked uncomfortable, and in that instant Hermione regretted not buying him new robes when she had the chance. He watched her sheepishly for a second before turning around and walking to her office door. "Thanks, 'Mione. You always were, and always will be the best." With that he left her office, robe tails swishing behind him. Not knowing what to do next, Hermione stood there staring where her former redheaded lover stood. The room seemed colder than it was before, and Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

Gathering her belongings, she sent a hasty owl to Ginny asking her to come over as soon as she could to get rid of Ron's possessions and have them sent to wherever he was currently staying. Leaving her workload and half eaten lunch behind, Hermione practically ran out of her office, asking Gracelynn to clean up and that she was leaving for the day. The young girl stood looking confused at her employer's sudden departure, but turned and hurried into the office just as Hermione marched around the corner to the Attrium and disapparated to her flat.

When she appeared in her sitting area, Hermione promptly burst into tears. She was divorced and alone in a flat that looked like a battle from the Second Wizarding War took place in. Her precious books lined the floors, and papers were scattered from where they had turned to attack Ronald. Glass had shattered on the kitchen floor, and pillows were amiss and open. Hermione was both confused and distraught about how she could have possibly gotten ready for work that morning amongst the mess of artifacts that lined the floor.

Walking carefully to the bedroom, she changed into comfort clothes, and began waving her wand around fixing dishes and realigning the books on her shelves once more. Within a few minutes she could walk across the floor without impaling her feet. Within the next half hour she was on her couch blasting the telly on some muggle channel she had never once before known existed. She felt vulnerable and positively pathetic, but there was nothing she could do about that. Every bone in her body ached, and she didn't even have a good enough reason for it. Yes, she had just gotten divorced, but while Ronald had been the one to bring it up, she knew it was coming. And it's not like he did anything horrible to her. He was and continued to be a good man.

They just didn't have anything significant in common anymore.

"That bloody bastard! I'll hex him I will when I get my hands on that goddamn arse who approved this. It hasn't even been a full 24 hours yet and they're already posting it in _The Daily Prophet_!"

Ginny's usual apparations were normally not discreet, but this one in particular made Hermione jump from her spot on the couch. The firey red-head was still in her Quiddich uniform, the deep green robes flowing behind her as she stormed into the sitting area waving her copy of the Wizard paper. "I mean look at this filth. Mum's already on her way to that scum Barnabus' office to have a talk with him. This is ridiculous. If you want to get a divorce you bloody well should be able to without the entire public knowing." She thrust the paper down violently onto the coffee table for Hermione to see. On the open page, there was a picture of Hermione and Ron together at the most recent social event, their smiling faces caught in laughter of some unknown joke. It had been taken only a few months prior. The headline read, "Is the Golden Trio Finally Going Their Separate Ways?" and underneath there was a lengthy article going on about the two's complete romantic history. She hadn't bothered to check the author. "Bloody hell I'm so sick of the four of us being followed and posted about every goddamn day."

Hermione was a little peeved about the attention as well. While Ron had always craved that attention that came from accomplishment, Harry and Hermione had not. They wanted their private lives kept away from the public, but of course being two-thirds of the Golden Trio, that was not possible. And after Harry and Ginny's marriage, the four became top news. They were the couples of the year, and one of the pairs was now divorced.

Ginny stormed out of the room and changed quickly into some of Hermione's older clothes so that she could do the dirty work without getting anything on her uniform. "I'll go make some tea and then get started. I know what's his and what isn't, so I'll just pack it all into boxes for you and send it off to George's. Don't you worry your head about the littlest thing. I'll take care of everything." She kissed the top of Hermione's frizzy hair lightly and disappeared into the kitchen. She just lay on the couch in complete agony, wondering how in fact she'll break the news to her parents. They loved Ron. They wouldn't see reason behind the decision. Just the thought of the disaster of telling her mum over lunch one day made Hermione's head spin.

When Ginny brought the scalding tea, Hermione decided she would just send her mother a cut out of her own _Daily Prophet_'s article with a short letter, hoping she would understand and tell her father. It would take a few days as well, since the owl would be flying all the way from the UK to Australia where her parents continued to reside. Continuously throughout the letter, Hermione had to remind herself that this was for the better, that this small bundle would contain everything needed, and that within a few days she would feel better, especially with Ron's clothing absent from the shared closet.

With the letter completed, Hermione tied it to her mail owl's leg and sent him on his way, hoping that instead of receiving a call of turmoil and disappointment, her mother would demand to see her daughter and help her through this time, without mention of having called the entire family and letting them know that the Christmas gossip was coming early this year.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, lovelies! This is my first Harry Potter fic, so I hope you enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated for improvement of chapters, and if you want to, contribute ideas towards the next chapter.**

**Thanks! ~Beadlebug3**


	2. Chapter Two: An Invitation for One

After sending the owl off with her mother's small bundle of information, Hermione promptly passed out on her sofa with Ginny rustling quietly in the bedroom. For a little while, she fell into a dreamless slumber, thankful that after this most recent turmoil her mind was somewhat at rest. There was only the slight shifting of boxes and clothing in the background, and the softened sliding lulled Hermione to sleep. It was only when an owl tapped loudly on her kitchen window that she woke and sat straight upright, her wavy hair standing up on end.

The tapping continued, and it took the young girl a few seconds to realize where exactly it was coming from, but Ginny had already beat her to the punch, and by the time she had arrived in the kitchen, the graceful bird was perched precariously on Hermione's owl's stand.

"I tried to get here before the tapping woke you up, but I guess I'm faster on a broom than on foot." She smiled sheepishly, but Hermione was more curious with the parchment than Ginny's jokes. "It's just the invitation to the Ball. Since you're awake you should RSVP now. I'm sure Harry has gotten ours as well. We three can go together."

Hermione just nodded at the younger girl and took the invitation, not even bothering to look at the date. Regardless of when it was and what it clashed with, she was still obligated to go as being a third of the Golden Trio. But this would be the first ball without Ron at her side. She wondered if he'd bring a date this close to the divorce. She wondered if she should get one.

"I'll keep an eye on Ron for you." Ginny tied the finished RSVP to the owl's leg and watched it fly out the window. She spoke as if she had been reading Hermione's mind. "If I find out he has a date, I'll let you know. But for now, we should go shopping. You know what would happen if we wore the same dress a second year. _The Prophet_ would be all over that like wildfire."

Hermione could do nothing but nod and hang the invitation to her fridge so she didn't forget. She didn't want to think about Ron bringing another girl to this ball. This ball honored those who fought and lost loved ones; who watched their classmates and distance relatives get killed against Death Eaters and Snatchers alike. Hermione and Ron had gone together for the last four balls. She had cried on his shoulder during the moment of silence, and danced between him and Harry after the dinners. They laughed with old friends who they fought side by side with. Watching him dance with another girl and mingle with their old classmates from before the war made her sick to her stomach.

And of course, there would be the press. Certain _Prophet_ reporters were allowed, along with Ministry authority figures. Everyone would see her without Ron at her side. Her bosses, colleagues, and the reporters that already knew too much about her personal life than she was comfortable with.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow night. I'll owl Luna and Fleur and we four can make an outing of it." Ginny tried to get Hermione excited for the upcoming shopping trip, but she could do nothing but nod at her kitchen floor. "The Ball is Friday night, 'Mione. Do you think you'll be okay to go then?"

Hermione wasn't sure. Her hesitation in answering moved Ginny to ask again, but she finally managed to look up at her former sister-in-law and nod with a slight smile on her face. "Yes. I'll be okay by Friday. We'll have fun tomorrow night."

Ginny looked at her skeptically, but accepted the witch's answer and disapparated with boxes overflowing with her older brother's belongings.

. . . . .

Hermione was only half truthful in her parting statement to Ginny though. Yes, she did have fun with the three other witches, apparating from shop to shop with their arms overloaded with bags. But the rest of her week slowly dragged on. She had spent countless hours trying not to cry in her office and even more at home collapsing onto her couch and burying her face into various pillows that no longer smelled like home. By the time Friday rolled around, she was not prepared to see Ron in his dress robes with a small fresh-out-of-Beauxbatons blonde. While Ginny was positive he wasn't actually bringing a date, it wouldn't be the first time he did something like that last minute.

"Don't worry about Ronald," Fleur openly stated when Ginny and Hermione had gathered in her home in preparation for the Ball. She carried her young daughter Victoire on her hip. "While I love my brother-in-law, 'e is stupid for letting such a pretty girl go." Little Victoire cooed and Fleur whispered to her as they walked into the powder blue nursery.

"Fleur is right, Hermione. You look far too beautiful to be worrying about what my moronic brother will be doing." Ginny smiled confidently in her green and gold dress, one that matched her Holyhead Harpies uniform nearly perfectly. Harry stood next to her beaming at the two girls.

Hermione's dress was a long, lavender colored gown with an open back that swished delicately to the floor. It wasn't something she would normally wear to an event such as this, but she knew it would knock Ron off his feet, and at least she would get a boost of self-confidence out of the evening.

"I can promise you, 'Mione. You'll be killing it tonight. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on my two girls while I'm up on the podium repeating the same speech from last year." Harry smiled under his perpetually messy hair. Hermione knew how much he detested giving speeches; especially with the Minister of Magic not two steps behind him, nodding at his every word.

The three stood in Bill and Fleur's living space, ready to depart the second they were finished giving the babysitter instructions on what to do if little Victoire woke. Molly Weasley had offered to watch her granddaughter for the night, but Fleur wouldn't go to the Ball without her mother-in-law. They were meeting their relatives and friends there as per usual, and when the babysitter was finally debriefed, the five joined hands and disapparated into the warm summer night towards the gates of Hogwarts.

Upon arrival, their invitations were checked, hats were tipped, and a carriage was called to take them up to the castle. As their carriage started to trot (all five of the passengers in the carriage now being able to see the Thestrals guiding it) murmurs could be heard from those who were still waiting to get their invitation approved.

"Look, it's Harry Potter!"

"And Hermione Granger!"

"I heard Harry and Ginny were married right here at Hogwarts."

"No way, they got married in Paris under the stars!"

"That's so romantic."

"Yeah but I heard Granger and Weasley did too, and look at them now."

Such rumors always followed them around, and it had become much easier to tune them out, but when people started whispering about the divorce behind Hermione's back, she couldn't help but feel the tears form in her eyes. She hated how her life was so out there for the world to see, and it took all she could to try and forget the voices that carried through the passage of tress behind them.

The castle still looked as radiant as ever, with the towers gleaming under the stars that were rising above the treetops and the lights illuminating the halls all five could remember almost too clearly. Tears nearly came to Hermione's eyes as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall, and their old Professor Minerva McGonagall stood at the doors, greeting carriages and former students inside.

"Harry James Potter." The older witch still wore her pointed hat, and her grey hair spilled out from underneath. She shook the famous wizard's hand. "It is good to see you again, Potter. As you, Mrs. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione could not help but cringe at the use of her last name. It was only a reminder of what had happened earlier that week, but she knew there was no avoiding it. She would have to live with it for the rest of her life. There was no use in getting upset over it.

The small group chatted casually before McGonagall pointed them to the direction of the Great Hall, yet all of them remembered the exact way with a sense of nostalgia for the large doors and sounds coming from where they had spent countless meals during their adolescence. The great doors were open, and inside there was a stage with a band no one cared to learn the name of and a dance floor that no one would dance on until they had too much Firewhiskey to care who saw them shake their arse. The tables were set up as they were every year. Ministry officials were always seated closer to the dance floor next to the table that seated the Golden Trio and their friends. Yet despite how the Ministry wanted it to be set up, by the end of the night no one could remember what was the floor and what was the ceiling, let alone where his or her assigned seat was.

Hermione stood in awe of the grand room. She had forgotten how much she missed the ceiling that reflected the sky and the floating candles that lit the room. But it wasn't long before her thoughts were interrupted with too long hugs and too many questions. She didn't always mind if the questions were about her work, or if she was receiving a hug from someone she had not seen for months, but when a complete stranger came up to her and tried to get her to divulge her latest divorce secrets, it took all of her willpower not to hex them. More than once someone from _The Prophet_ came up to her looking for the details, and Harry had to shoo them off. She was sure his act of friendship would give them a scandalous story to tell.

But as the night progressed (and the number of empty Firewhiskey bottles increased behind the bar) Hermione discovered that even with having to eat dinner in close proximity to Ron, and going up on stage after Harry's speech with him, the evening wasn't a complete disaster in her eyes. She refused to dance with her former husband (not like he would ask) but spent the majority of the time dancing with either Harry or one of her former Hogwarts classmates. When he wasn't spending time with his new wife, Hannah Abbott, Hermione stole Neville away for a quick twirl in between dances with Harry and Luna. She thought to herself that living the single life wasn't that bad, and it may be worth nights like these where she could worry less about appearances and more about having fun with her friends. _The Prophet_ reporters had left her alone for the majority of the night, and she had managed to finally relax for the first time all week.

It wasn't until later that evening that Hermione sat down to rest her feet, head spinning slightly from the adrenaline and alcohol pouring through her body. Harry and Ginny and many other couples remained on the dance floor, holding each other closely and smiling as if they were teenagers touching one another for the first time. Ron was nowhere to be found. She sipped some water blindly off the table and unbuckled her heels that had long since begun to dig into her feet, not worrying about anything but the slight pain she was feeling in her ankles, but tt wasn't until a long shadow appeared in front of her that she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Having some trouble there, Granger?" The snarky tone emitting from the shadow draped over her figure was one Hermione had never wanted to hear again. However because of her tipsy state of mind, she was lacking in her usual vocabulary.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to spoil the fun?"

"I wouldn't exactly call this my type of fun, but seeing you let go the way you did was very entertaining to me, Granger."

Hermione's cheeks burned a fiercer red from under her already flushed complexion. She wasn't used to letting her guard down, and with every passing second sitting under her old school enemy's gaze she regretted buying such a revealing dress. How long had he been watching her drink and dance that evening?

"Anyway, I was here because usually it is my mother that attends these gatherings, having gotten a special invitation from your friend Potter over there-" Briefly the memory of Mrs. Malfoy saving Harry's life in the Dark Forest crossed her mind. "-But this evening my mother could not make it and suggested I come in her place. She wants to turn our lives around and that means going out into the world and presenting ourselves."

Hermione could do nothing but stare at her scarred feet and absorb what he was telling her. She was almost waiting for the snobbish comment that demanded her full attention, but she didn't really feel up to looking into his grey eyes. It wasn't until she saw Harry and Ginny stumbling towards her that she looked up at her old schoolmates face. He was still the skinny boy she knew during the Wizarding War, but he seemed to have gotten—dare Hermione say it?—more attractive? His almost white blonde hair was neatly messy, if that was even possible, and his eyes seemed to have gotten softer with his age. He towered over Hermione's sitting form, but he wasn't impossibly skinny like he used to be. He filled out nicely, but with muscle that was barely seen underneath his dark dress robes.

"'Mione! I see you've been talking to Malfoy here." Harry's words slurred slightly, and he pounded his hand on his school enemy's back. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he stood straighter upon contact. "Malfoy, have you told her the news yet?"

"I was just about to get to that Potter before you interrupt-"

"Malfoy here," Harry started before he could finish his previous sentence, "Is going to be working as a Healer at St. Mungo's. So it'd be nice if all of us could all get along, alright you two?" He eyed them carefully and towed Ginny away on his arm back to the dance floor without another word. Hermione was in shock. She didn't think he was even qualified to be a Healer. But then again he had excelled in potions during school…

"Granger? Granger did you even hear what I asked you?"

Too caught up in her own thoughts, Hermione had completely tuned him out. "What did you say?"

Sighing, Malfoy took her hand and helped her out of the seat. "I asked if you wanted to dance with me. But since you can't even listen to me talk for two seconds without zoning me out, I figure that by now it's a lost cause."

Completely baffled by this question, Hermione could only stand staring at him with her mouth agape. Malfoy? Wanted to dance with her? The girl he bulled throughout school and called her Mudblood for five years? She didn't know how to answer, so the blonde boy just sighed, and dragged her onto the dance floor draping his hands delicately on her hips. "Try not to tread on my feet, Granger, okay?" She could only nod and wrap her arms around his neck.

He leaned in closer, and their torsos touched lightly as they swayed to the soft music playing in the background. Hermione's thoughts raced. She had no idea why he was compelled to suddenly be kind to her, and she had no idea why she had accepted his invitation to dance. Maybe it was the Firewhiskey. Maybe it was because she was too tired to care anymore. Out of the corner of her eye she could see _Prophet_ writers carefully jotting down notes, but her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Malfoy spoke. "Do you want to get out of here?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, here's chapter two! I know a lot sort of happened in this scene, especially towards the end, but you'll just have to wait to see what will happen next. As usual, reviews are appreciate, and thanks so much for reading.**

**~Beadlebug3**


	3. Chapter Three: Moments to be Desired

"Wh-what did you just ask?" Hermione quickly backed away from the blonde boy. She had been so lost in the dancing, her fingers at the bottom of his neck, his hands balancing precariously on her lower back, the smell of his cologne, all of it distracted her so easily that when he spoke she jumped back in fright. "I-I don't understand. Why. Why are you being so nice to me?"

Malfoy just looked at her with his soft grey eyes. He didn't say anything at first, just dropped his hands to his sides from where they were hovering midair. He almost looked sad, defeated. Hermione only stood breathing heavily. No one around them seemed to care of the ruckus she was causing. Not even Ginny or Harry shifted their gaze. Finally he said, "I'm trying to change, Hermione. I really am," and it nearly stopped her heart to hear him use her first name, possibly for the first time in his life.

"What did you just call me?"

"Hermione. That's your first name, isn't it, Granger? Or would you rather I call you something else?" His tone turned cold and his eyes narrowed into slits. But it was only for a second that his old demeanor showed through this new shell of a man. His shoulders relaxed, and he spoke in a calmer tone. "I'm trying to be a better person. I just want to take you out for a drink, that's all."

She was hesitant. Her heart was still racing, but it was beginning to slow. Draco Malfoy wanted to take her out for a drink. After years of tormenting she, Harry and Ron, he wanted to take her out for a drink. "But why?" she asked him.

Sighing, Malfoy hung his head and chuckled softly. "You always need to know every fact there is, don't you, Granger? If you must know why I'm trying to change, it is because your dear friend Potter over there saved my life twice five years ago and I'm trying to repay the favor. He comes into St. Mungo's a lot with minor injuries on the job, and we've got to talking occasionally and getting over our childish feud. I just want to get to know the bookworm better, that's all. I mean you are his best friend, other than Weasley."

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning again when he called her a bookworm. She didn't know what to think, and looked at her still bare feet. What was the harm in saying yes? She could continue her streak of not caring what the public thought, and if he hadn't changed at all, she could walk out like nothing happened. She would never have to see him again if she could help it. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, Malfoy. Okay. Okay, I will get a drink with you."

His eyes shone for a moment, and a new smile formed on his face, one that wasn't demeaning or cocky. He seemed genuinely pleased with her decision. "Then let's get going, Granger. We have a lot to catch up on."

. . . . .

The two arrived at the door of the Three Broomsticks somewhat clumsily, with Hermione holding onto Draco's arm so tightly she thought his robes would rip. Her own robes were draped over her shoulders to keep her warm, and she was amazed Draco was able to get the two of them from the Hogwarts gates to Hogsmeade with her as intoxicated as she was. Suddenly going for more drinks didn't seem like the wisest of decisions.

When she stumbled over her own feet (Malfoy having helped her put her shoes on once again) he laughed quietly and said, "Maybe you'll have more Butterbeer than Firewhiskey for the rest of the night."

At which Hermione replied, being the stubborn witch that she was, "I can handle any amount of Firewhiskey that I desire, thank you _very_ much _Mr._ Malfoy." He just shrugged his shoulders and helped her inside to the bar where many couples and parties were too engaged in their own conversations to see the unusual pairing walk through the door.

The bartender gave them two tall glasses of Firewhiskey and told them, "First one's on the house. Boss' insistence," and left the two alone to dabble in various themes of conversation. Hermione could only wonder if it was like that in celebration of the Ball, but she didn't care. A full glass of Firewhiskey and (hopefully) some good conversation free of charge was a good evening in her eyes. "So, Malfoy. What is it you wanted to catch up on, exactly?" She crossed her legs and took a long sip of her drink, eyeing him closely. He had very clearly transformed, at least physically, over the last five years. He was no longer the boy she knew in school, and even through her intoxicated eyes she knew he had definitely gotten more attractive since she had last seen him. Although the last time she did see him was after the War, and he was covered in blood and in a mess more ways than one.

"That all depends on you, Granger. I have read about most of your life in _The Prophet_," Hermione nearly choked on her drink. She hadn't realized Malfoy was keeping tabs on her. But then again, nearly everyone was. "Yet I, however, have successfully kept most of my personal life out of it. So what do you want to know, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione thought carefully. It was painfully obvious that he was unmarried. There was no ring on his finger, and even if he was keeping his personal life out of _The Prophet_, a wedding announcement would have been made. So no, the answer to that was too obvious. Even in her alcohol-infested brain she was still trying to come up with a clever question that would knock him off his feet. But even after seconds of pondering what exactly she wanted to know about the boy, she could only come up with, "Why a Healer?"

"Blimey! You'd think that you would give me an easier question my first go!" He drown the first glass of Firewhiskey in one go and asked the bartender for two more full glasses, even though Hermione had hardly finished her first. "I'm going to need to be very drunk if all of your questions are going to be _that_ personal."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that wasn't somethin-"

Draco cut her off. "I'm only pulling your leg, Granger. Shit, just relax, for once in your life."

She blushed once again that night. She wasn't sure how it was possible that she was still getting flushed after all she had had to drink, but she could feel her cheeks getting hot. She made a pact to only finish the Firewhiskeys in front of her to try and keep the embarrassment level to a minimum.

After finishing the first half of his second drink, Malfoy began to answer. "I became a Healer because I was good at potions. I was really sick of people thinking that because I came from old money I wasn't going to work hard, and for a long time throughout school I thought that too. But after the War, I was really tired of people having no expectations for 'The Malfoy Boy.' So I went back to Hogwarts, finished my N.E.W.T.S and started training to become a Healer. I work a lot with the Aurors because I know more about dark magic than some of the nurses and others. Which is how I ran into Potter again."

Hermione sat absorbing in all of this new knowledge. She had guessed that he hadn't lost his childhood cocky pride, but at least now he was using it for constructive purposes. "How do you stay out of _The Prophet_?"

He just laughed. "I'm not divulging my secrets. Next question."

"That's not fair!" Hermione scoffed, but she laughed too. After a few seconds she began to think about that. She was laughing with Draco Malfoy. She was sitting at a bar with Draco Malfoy. And she didn't care who saw her. It used to be that if he even saw her from across the corridor, he would sneer in disgust. But now, now she wasn't sure exactly what was going through is mind.

. . . . .

The night progressed in much of the same manor. Hermione watched herself and tried to drink no more than what was in front of her at the beginning of the evening. Draco however, by the end was drowning deep in glasses of empty shots and alcohol. He was just as drunk as she was.

"Don't you think for a second, Granger, that my drunken body wants whatever your kinky little mind can come up with. If you take advantage of me tonight, I'll call Potter on you." His slurred warning with the added bonus of threatening to tell Harry on her made Hermione laugh harder than intended. Both of their faces were beet red, and while most of The Three Broomsticks was empty at this point in the evening, the two struggled to keep their voices down as if they were sharing a secret. However their intoxicated mouths didn't seem to want to follow the rules of social etiquette, and every whisper sounded like a yell.

"I'm going to have to cut you two off." The bartender began clearing the empty glasses off of the bar and wiping down the drips with an old rag. The glasses began magically washing themselves in the sink.

Malfoy scoffed at his comment and stood shakily. "We should go. Clearly if they're cutting us off, we're not wanted." With the bartenders back turned, Malfoy flipped the bird and Hermione had to suppress a laugh as she put on her cloak with some difficulty. The ground spun, and it was difficult to keep her thoughts on one subject for long, other than Malfoy's stumbling figure and open dress robes. "Come on, Granger. The night awaits."

He dragged her by the crook of her elbow into the cool night air. It wasn't quite as sobering as Hermione had hoped it would be, but with the wind blowing softly, she was able to focus on the stars above her. She hadn't noticed she had stopped walking to admire the morning sky until Malfoy drunkenly called to her from across the way.

"Granger! Are you coming or what?"

She turned her attention to the blonde down the pebble covered road. With the intoxicated smile plastered onto his face, he looked more like a overexcited eleven year old, one Hermione would never get to know. Maybe one that never existed.

She walked quickly over to him and watched him. He didn't say anything, only looked at her as to ask, "what next?" Yet she didn't know the answer. "Where are we going?"

"We could find another bar. Or we could go someplace else. Your choice." Surprisingly, he held her gaze and was able to stand upright as she made her decision. It was probably getting late. Even though the next day was Saturday, she had errands to run and Ron was stopping by the flat to pick up what Ginny forgot, and she didn't want to be home for that. There were so many things she wanted to do though that night under the stars. There were so many deeper questions she wanted to ask Malfoy that she didn't get the chance to, or didn't want to? Hermione's head was starting to hurt.

"I think I'm going to head back to my flat. Alone. It's not safe to apparate with two like this." Malfoy's eyes seemed to sink, but recovering quickly, he took a step back and all of a sudden brought back his guarded self.

"That's probably best. Yes. Yeah. I should too. I'm on call tomorrow."

The two watched one another quietly. They weren't friends. Were they? They certainly couldn't be. Not after one night. Acquaintances, maybe? Hermione tried to remember how she departed with her acquaintances, but realized she could only remember how she said good-bye to Harry and Ginny: a peck on the cheek for each, and a long hug as if they wouldn't see one another for years to come.

However, Draco seemed to have perfected the art of departures, and merely backed away slowly. "See you around, Granger." He turned and walked a few steps down the road before disappearing into the night air altogether.

Hermione stood looking at the spot where Draco had stood only moments before. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was meant to be something in this moment. That the two were missing something. But as fatigue began to overtake her, she disapparated from the street and collapsed onto her bed, falling asleep almost instantaneously, still wearing her robes and heels.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry this one took so long to get to you all! I kept meaning to publish it sooner, but midterms got in the way, along with my overall laziness and typical writer's block on how to end it, but here it is! As per usual, it is lovely to hear your feedback, and I'm always willing to take suggestions into consideration.**

**Thank you so much for reading, the following for this story is already so much more than I could have expected.**

**~Beadlebug3**


	4. Chapter Four: Simple Pleasures

_There was screaming, so much screaming. It echoed throughout the dark halls and threated to pierce the eardrums of anyone who came too close. Her body was withering on the floor, and she screamed. She screamed so loudly for help, for anyone to come and save her, but the deafening noise of the girl below was too great. There was no one in sight. No one ever came. It was only she and this young girl, dying in the middle of a dark room. There was nothing she could do to make it stop. She was powerless to help. She was powerless to make the pain stop. Her light brown waves were splayed out around her head and her legs and arms were contorted in all different directions. But the screaming, that was the worst part. The sound of a tortured soul, of a scream that sounded only too familiar…_

Hermione woke in a pool of sweat, panting heavily. She would have thought that her intense intoxication would have put a stop to her occasional nightmares, but clearly it only heightened the clarity of every detail. She had woken still in her dress from the night before, and her shoe straps dug into her ankles leaving angry red marks. Her muggle clock said it was eleven in the morning.

With nowhere to go and no one to see, Hermione held her head in her hand and sat up slowly. "Ughh why." She moaned and swung her feet over the end of her bed. So far, her morning wasn't turning out too great. She kicked off her shoes and stripped out of her party dress, amazed that in her tossing and turning of the night it didn't get ruined. Being careful not to stand too quickly, she stretched and put her dress away in her closet, watching her reflection carefully. Her makeup was smudged and there were deep bags under her eyes. With her hair still partially in it's up do, she looked somewhat put together, but there were strands pointing up and sitting in positions that were unnatural, even for her wavy locks.

She dressed slowly in simple jeans and a sweatshirt, tying her hair up in a bun. She looked positively muggle, but with her head spinning and she didn't care. She cleaned her face of all excess makeup and made her self a cup of coffee along with digging up her anti-hangover potion-wherever it was.

The morning crawled by. By the time she had found her potion and the coffee had finished brewing, it was only 11:15. She sighed at the time and sat at her kitchen table nursing her coffee and holding her head. Her owl was perched in his corner, sleeping soundly, as if he too had a hangover. But a tap at the window startled them both out of their trances, and Hermione looked up to see a large tawny owl tapping at her kitchen window.

When she opened the window, the owl nipped her finger affectionately and held out its leg to Hermione. The piece of parchment was small and tied tightly with a green ribbon. When she had released the owl of it's burden, he flew over to the perch of Hermione's owl that gave a quiet _hoot_ in annoyance, but shared his perch nonetheless. The note was written in small script.

_Granger-_

_I enjoyed our talk last night. Care to cure your hangover at the Leaky Cauldron? If so, meet me at the muggle entrance at two._

_-D. Malfoy_

Hermione stood in shock of the invitation. Within twenty-four hours, Malfoy had asked her to get drinks with him twice. While she was tempted to decline (as Hannah Abbott now worked there, slowly taking over for Tom as he grew weaker) her enjoyment of the night before was somewhat of the deciding factor.

_I accept. Look for me inside. –Hermione_

She retied the parchment to the owl's leg and carried him delicately to the window where he few off into the afternoon sky. Finishing her coffee, Hermione took an extra dosage of the anti-hangover potion, and resolved to spend her afternoon in Diagon Alley—Flourish and Blotts to be specific. She didn't know when Ron was coming, and she didn't want to have to make an unprepared getaway, so she packed her flat keys, money (both muggle and wizard) and other necessities into her bag before disapparating right outside the famous book store.

She stood in front of the display window, dizzy and disoriented, but she appeared to have gotten there in one piece. The manager, a small, plump witch with furiously curly grey hair and small spectacles that sat on the bridge of her nose waved from behind the counter. Holding her head, Hermione waved back and walked into the store, trying to tune out the jingling of the overhead bell and waving off the manager and making her way up to the top floor where she settled down in her favorite red armchair.

It was during these times where Hermione was able to lose herself complete into her favorite world—the one of books and information that she could feed into her brain. She could spend hours sitting alone in her armchair, devouring book after book, learning every bit of magical information there is to know. Of course, she always carries around her copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and will often read that until each story is memorized. She wanted to read it to her own children, since she didn't get the chance to have them read to her, but now it seemed as though that would have to wait.

So she settled into her chair and pulled a random book out of the pile next to her and began reading. It wasn't long before she was lost in the world of transfiguration, reading techniques she already learned, but was still fascinated with nonetheless. She read until she was halfway through the book, and finally remembered to check the time.

Her watch read 2:17.

The second the time registered in her head, Hermione had jumped up from her comfortable position and nearly sprinted out the door of Flourish and Blotts. There was a near collision with a frazzled manager who had forgotten Hermione had taken refuge in the upper levels, but waved her off. However it wasn't until she had arrived at The Leaky Cauldron that Hermione stopped and looked at her surroundings. She was sure that more than once on her rush over she had nearly knocked over lord knows how many people, and almost collided with the brick entrance into the pub. When she arrived inside, she was happy to see it was packed on the particularly warm day, and Hannah wasn't working the bar.

She scanned the pub before she finally spotted the white-blonde hair in the back corner, sullenly nursing a coffee.

"Draco," Hermione said his name softly as she approached. His expression transformed quickly, and he gave her a small smile before offering for her to sit. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I got caught up in a book and-"

"A book, that's not surprising," he joked. She could feel herself getting hot, and was thankful that the Leaky Cauldron had been known for being dank and dark. "I was about to leave, actually. I thought you had stood me up."

"Th-this isn't a date, right? I'm sorry I just, I'm not rea-"

"Relax, Granger. This is just two, acquaintances, getting coffee." He hesitated at acquaintances, as if he didn't know what the two of them were just yet. Acquaintances. Yes, she had called them that in her head just the night before. She could accept that. It was much easier to justify than _date_. Oh, no no no. She had only just gotten divorced; he couldn't possibly be hitting on her.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I'm going to get a cup of coffee." He nodded and she went up to the bar to order. A young Hogwarts student was running things at the moment, and the amount of excitement that shone in her eyes was blinding. She _insisted_ the coffee come out of her pay, but Hermione dropped a sickle in her tip jar anyway. Working at the Ministry gave her all of the money she needed for simple pleasures, and there wasn't any need for her to receive special treatment. Hannah would have charged her, but then again, it was a good thing Hannah wasn't there, wasn't it?

Hermione took her coffee from the young girl's hands and carried it delicately back to the table she and Malfoy shared. He had a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ open in front of him.

"I am going to assume you haven't read the paper this morning." He looked at her grimly and slid the page he was reading over to her. "You've successfully pushed me out of my quiet cave, Granger."

Thankfully, it wasn't on the front page, but she and Malfoy had made it in the _Prophet_ this morning. There was a picture of the two of them dancing at the Ball, and another of them drunk, stumbling out of the Three Broomsticks with him clutching onto her wrist and her lips pressed into a wide smile. She had to admit, she looked happy in those shots, happier than she had felt that entire week before. But honestly, she hadn't even been with him that long that night and they already had produced a story out of it?

"Opposite's Attract? The Lion Puts Her Head in the Snake's Mouth?" The title was atrocious. And it did not do their relationship justice at all. She only skimmed the article before furiously blowing it back towards Malfoy, who watched with a curious intensity. "This is outrageous. I am sick and tired of my personal life turning into some sort of gossip."

Malfoy just sat watching. "Maybe you shouldn't have come to see me then. With the rumors being spread around now, people would begin to get the wrong idea." He was right. By giving them gossip to spread, she was only hurting herself. But she didn't want to spend her life in shadows until the publicity died down. And who said it would? She was part of the Golden Trio. She would be followed around for the rest of her life.

"No, no. I can't hide from them. I'll be hiding for the rest of my life if I try."

"I admire that about you." Hermione almost couldn't believe her ears. When he saw her look of shock, he continued. "Well I mean, you can't have imagined that I _only_ picked on your because you were a mudblood. Sure, it was a lot of the reason, but you were also getting higher marks than I was in school, and that angered my father. You were headstrong and out there, and I hide in the shadows. That's how I keep the _Prophet_ off my back. I don't do anything to provoke them. That is my mother's job."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Was Malfoy, _complimenting her_? Surely he remembered whom he was talking to. It was too late in the afternoon for him to still be drunk, but then again she didn't know what he had been spiking his coffee with. "I'm -dare I say- flattered, that you would think of me in that way, Malfoy." She didn't know what else to say to the blonde boy sitting in front of her. Had he really grown as much as he claimed to have? He was still using the word 'mudblood' which after all of these years still sent shivers up her spine, but he had actually complimented her.

"You should go. We were followed again." She turned around and saw a quivering quill floating in midair a few tables back, with a witch casually reading a magazine and watching over the top. When she saw the pair looking at her, she grabbed the quill and forced it to stop writing, taking a long sip of her drink. "I'm serious. You should go. You don't need more bad publicity."

"You're not bad publicity."

He looked up at her with harsh eyes. Immediately she had wished she had thought before she spoke, but within seconds they softened again and he just looked sad. "Granger, I am a former Death Eater. You are part of the Golden Trio. Bad publicity will come of this. Please, go and enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Go read another book." He smirked at her. "I'll send you an owl."

Hermione couldn't argue with his logic. He was right. A good girl bookworm like her hanging out with the most dangerous student she grew up with was serious juice, especially since she just got divorced. They would start saying she was turning to the dark side.

"Okay. Okay. I'll go." He nodded at her and sighed in relief.

"Goodbye, Granger."

She waved at him as she walked back towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. Looking back, the reporter seemed to have disappeared, and Draco sat alone, in the same position she found him in. However, this time, he had taken a book out of nowhere and was reading in the dark corner contentedly. She wondered how many times she had passed him walking back and forth through the Leaky Cauldron, not paying attention to her surroundings.

She wondered how many times he had looked up from his book and watched her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, I promise I don't make you guys wait on purpose. I've been having a lot of writer's block lately with each chapter because my first ideas don't always match up with how I want it to turn out, therefore it takes me longer to write. But I hope to get the next few chapters up soon! Thank you so much for the positive feedback. It really helps get me on my feet and writing each new chapter for you guys.**

**Save Rock and Roll.**

**~Beadlebug3**


	5. Chapter Five: Family Matters

Leaving the Leaky Cauldron was no problem. Most knew it was where she and many others who had participated at the Battle of Hogwarts were frequently there and didn't bat an eyelash when one of the Golden Trio walked through. It wasn't until she had gone through the brick wall and began walking back down Diagon Alley that she was bombarded with children and families demanding her attention. Of course it was always flattering when a young girl comes up asking her to sign a copy of her favorite book.

There was a small crowd that gathered around her until parents ushered their children away with dreams of ice cream and Quiddich supplies, and Hermione was finally able to walk the streets in some form of peace. Five years after the war had ended, and people were still producing crowds around she, Harry and Ron. We eventually learned that to avoid multiple crowds we should apparate directly to where we intended to go, however there were moments where Hermione just wished she were invisible again like when she was at Hogwarts. She often took her privacy then for granted.

The streets were busy in the late summer afternoon, and soon she found herself wandering towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The large building was full of life as children ran in and out excitedly. She hadn't been in the store to shop in months, since Ron had begun working there. Wandering inside the brightly lit building, she squeezed past children of all ages who were intrigued by the different gizmos and tricks George had been coming up with and producing with Ron for the last few years. On the ground floor, she couldn't find him, but she did stumble upon one of George's first shopkeepers, Verity, standing behind the counter ringing out a group of incoming fourth years it looked to be. She smiled warmly at Hermione and pointed upwards and mouthed four, letting her know that he was in the upstairs apartment of the shop.

Mouthing thank you and making her way through the crowd towards the stairs, Hermione could remember the first time she visited the joke shop. While Diagon Alley was dark and dismal during the summer before her sixth year, the shop was full of life and making more money than any other shop in the small town. At the time, she was shocked the store was still in business, but as time progressed, she realized how much everyone needed the laughter Fred and George were able to bring.

She and George had never been the closest of family members after she and Ron had married, but there were often times where she had found herself laughing along with him at some antic towards Ron. She wasn't particularly sure why today she was drawn to the twin's company.

The tall staircase brought her through the second and third floors and up to the fourth where there was only a landing and a door that led to the apartment. Magically designed, the outside of the store looked like there was only three floors, but Hermione knew that inside the apartment there were two small floors crammed into the soundproof space. Once through the threshold, it was physically impossible to hear the busyness of the store. Verity had hooked up a calling system, which alerted George when he wasn't in the store that he, or Angelina was needed. But these days, the two stayed cooped up within their apartment with their new baby, Fred.

However when George opened the apartment door, he seemed to be the only one inside. "Hello, Hermione! What a surprise."

Hermione blushed slightly and walked inside taking in the small apartment. Usually the place was a mess of papers for the store, but lately it has been covered in baby bottles and magically moving brooms to keep the floor clean for the newborn. "I-I don't exactly know why I'm here. I hope I'm not intruding or anything."

"Not at all. Little Fred and Angelina are upstairs taking a nap while I try and tidy up the place. Is there something on your mind?"

There really wasn't anything in particular Hermione wanted to talk about, but it was nice knowing that she was still welcome in all of the Weasley households. "I just wandered over to this side of the Alley on a walk and thought I'd drop by. Ron was supposed to be stopping by the flat to pick up his things." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper by the end of her sentence and she looked at her feet. George watched her carefully.

"He's a git for letting you go. I'll be sure to leave a little something extra in his pay for the week." George winked and Hermione laughed quietly, knowing full well that he meant a rubber spider or joke of sorts.

"No, no. Don't torture the poor boy. I should be going anyway, I'm sorry for bursting in like this, I don't know what I was thinking." Hermione began to gather herself and walk back towards the door when George grabbed her arm.

"Be careful out there. You're still like a little sister to me; don't be afraid to drop by." George's smile nearly brought tears to Hermione's eyes, and she thanked him for being so understanding. The best thing about being married to Ron was the family it brought her. Growing up as an only child, she longed for the siblings she gained throughout her years at Hogwarts and after her marriage.

Outside the shop, Hermione promptly apparated back to her flat where she found that Ron had indeed stopped by and picked up his belongings. It felt emptier somehow, now that the red head's mess was no longer scattered about. Everything was neat and tidy and just the way she had always wanted her flat to be, but it made her feel emptier inside than it should have.

Collapsing slowly on the couch, she contemplated calling her mum just for a chat, but she knew that the second hellos were exchanged serious information would need to be spilled. No, she would just wait until her mother decided to call her, or send her an owl, or something.

But as she began a pot of tea to calm herself, the muggle phone Hermione kept only for her parents began to ring. Sighing deeply, she took the kettle off the boil and pressed talk. "Hello, mum."

"Hello, dear. My Hermione senses were tingling. What's on your mind?"

Hermione sighed again. With the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, she finished making her tea and settled at the kitchen table. "You know what's on my mind, mum. I know you got my owl."

"Yes well, you know how your father and I feel about the owls now that you have a way of actually contacting us. We'd rather you just call and let us know, especially with a situation as large as this." Hermione could hear her father saying something in the background. "I know you told me we should wait, but she was taking too long to call me and I was getting concerned."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh slightly at her parent's antics. "So did you even read the letter I sent?"

"Oh yes, darling. But your father and I wanted to hear it from you. Although we've thought about asking you to get us a subscription to this paper of yours, since it seems to know more about you than we do." Her mother, while still sounding concerned for her daughter's divorce, still managed to make Hermione laugh.

"I know I should have called you, mum. But it's been a rough week. And you know how much I would rather keep to myself."

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds, as if her mother was remembering all of those times Hermione chose to stay indoors and read instead of going out to play with the other children, and how for years her strange nature made it difficult for her to make friends. "Yes, yes I know. I just wanted to call and check in, make sure you're not too heartbroken. And I can always come up and stay with you if you need."

Hermione thanked her mother but told her it wasn't a necessity. "I'll be okay. I may come down and visit you two on holiday if I can get the days off." She could practically hear the smile on her mother's face over the phone. Since they decided to permanently move to Australia, it had been harder for the mother and daughter to get together. However the two tried whenever they could.

"Oh we should all go skiing in France again this Christmas, if you're not doing anything."

"No, I'd love to." Hermione was smiling now as she sipped her tea. There was something about her mum that always made the young witch smile.

"I should go now, dear. International calling and such. Give that Harry boy our love as well. We know how close the two of you are. I love you."

Smiling, Hermione told her mother the same and that she would tell Harry they said hello, and hung up her phone feeling more alone than she had before the phone call. Her parents were on a different continent, Harry and she were almost always busy with work, Ron was gone, the only person who seemed to be steadily in her life these last few days was Malfoy, and that did not make Hermione feel any better about herself.

She supposed that after not being alone for so many years after she had made friends, her usual comfort alone had begun to disappear. More often than not she wanted nothing more than to spend time with her closest friends after a few hours alone. The switch was nice, and the balance even nicer, but it was times like these when Hermione wondered if having people in your life was really worth it after all.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry this took so long, readers. Serious writer's block on this one, and it's just a filler! Here you can see aspects of Hermione's relationships with various people, especially her mother whom I wanted to have in at least once. But I didn't want her call to be smothering, and more like a warm hug. But hopefully while I procrastinate the rest of what I need to get done this weekend during Blizzard Nemo, I'll get another chapter in for you guys. **

**~Beadlebug3**


	6. Chapter Six: Utopia

Monday morning could not have come fast enough. After she hung up the phone with her mum, Saturday felt to have crawled by, and Sunday was no different. But Monday morning finally came and she was forced to shower and look presentable before going into the Ministry.

She apparated directly into the Attrium early Monday morning before too many other Ministry officials were in (although that wasn't much different than normal) and found Gracelynn scribbling away at her desk on a piece of parchment.

"Oh, Ms. Granger! I didn't know you'd be in so early, I would have been more prepared-"

Hermione cut her off. "It's fine, Gracelynn. Just get me my morning's assignments when they arrive. I'll just be in my office organizing my desk and pulling everything together from last week." The young girl just nodded and went to work putting her personal items in her desk as Hermione went back and sat in her office chair. It felt good to be back in it and ready to face the world.

Her morning passed by quickly with little to no visitors. Hermione had immersed herself with work for hours and finished the majority of it before lunch time. Her stomach rumbled right around when Harry would often get her for lunch, but the entirety of last week she had eaten alone in her office, and failed to mention to him that she would be in need of a lunch friend.

She was about to send him a notice asking if he wanted to meet somewhere, but remembered that without her to eat with, he had most likely talked to Ronald, and she wasn't quite ready for that transition just yet. She sighed to herself and fiddled around with the materials on her desk until her stomach rumbled again. _This is ridiculous. I should just go out and get lunch on my own. There is nothing wrong with eating lunch by myself._

Hermione stood up and straightened her jacket, but sat down again only seconds later. _But what if I run into Ron. I should bring someone else with me. _She stood back up and peered out her door, yet Gracelynn was already eating her lunch.

"Oh, Ms. Gwandger." She swallowed. "I'm sorry, I thought-well never mind. Is there anything you need?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Continue eating, I didn't mean to alarm you, I apologize. However I may be going out for lunch, so if I emerge again, just know that is where I'll be going." The young witch nodded and took a small bite of her sandwich as Hermione disappeared back into her office. _This is ridiculous. Get yourself together, Hermione. Just go alone. You are 22 years old, you can go get lunch alone._

She spent another ten minutes wringing her hands together and pacing before she grabbed her jacket and marched out of her office. She passed Gracelynn who was reading on the remainder of her lunch break and gave her a hurried wave before she changed her mind and returned back to her office to starve. Disapparating in the Attrium, she appeared in a secure location in Muggle London. She wasn't one hundred percent aware of where she had landed, but she knew it wasn't too far from The Leaky Cauldron in case she couldn't find a suitable spot for lunch.

Hermione ended up walking for quite some time, marveling at how Muggles got anything done without magic. It was true that she lived for eleven years of her life thinking that magic did not exist, but looking back on those times, she wasn't sure how her parents made it through adulthood without the helpful hand of a wand.

These people rode these buses and the Underground. They walked and watched television. Spent entire days cleaning when Hermione would be done with just a flick of her wrist. It fascinated her. It was days like these that she was glad for not wearing her robe to work. While there were fellow witches and wizards walking along the pavement in theirs, Hermione often missed the days of being invisible from the public eye, and just wanted to fade away into the background.

After walking for a half hour, she came across a small sandwich shop that appeared virtually empty. The lighting was dimmed and there were only two people behind the counter when she walked in, and just three customers scattered around the shop's many armchairs, avidly reading, their lunches left to the cold before them.

"Can I help you?" The man behind the counter looked at her inquisitively.

Hermione looked up at him and apologized. "I've just never come across your shop before. I'm a little overwhelmed."

He gave her a cocky grin. "Do you like what you see?" Her smile and general appeal to the shop was enough of an answer for him. "I'll get you the shop special and a coffee, on the house."

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that for me!" Her gaze turned guilty and she fished around in her bag for Muggle money.

"Yes I could. It's your first time in the shop. Pick up a book and find a chair, I'll bring it to you once it's ready."

Hermione blushed softly and gave him her thanks. She didn't need to pick a book though, because she almost always had one in her bag; but at the current moment of time the only books she had with her were magic, and opening up a book that had moving pictures and text would only confuse anyone who happened to come over to her. So she wandered the bookshelves and finally found a much-loved copy of _1984_. She had already read it multiple times growing up, but she was looking for a sense of familiarity instead of adventure. So she found a big armchair drowning in pillows and began to read.

She was so absorbed in the book that she didn't notice the boy from behind the counter come and set her plate down along with his own, pick up a book, and begin reading in the chair across from her. When she looked up, he only gave her an innocent gaze and asked, "what?"

"Shouldn't you be running the shop?"

He gave her that same innocent stare and pointed to his sandwich. "This is my lunch break, and you just so happened to be sitting in my favorite corner. So I thought I'd join you." He went back to his reading without saying another word.

Hermione gave him a look, but took a bite of her sandwich and settled down again back into her chair and book.

The next hour passed relatively quickly between eating a reading. The boy didn't say anything else to her as she finished her sandwich and read farther into her book. They sat in silence. But the longer they sat together, the more curious Hermione was. This was a Muggle boy, probably only a year older than she, who was contentedly reading and not furiously chowing down on his food. He was the complete opposite of the people she had been keeping the company of for the last eleven years of her life, yet she felt even more at home in the presence of this stranger than she did anywhere else at the current time.

As the clock ticked down time, Hermione finished her sandwich and checked her watch more times than she could count. While she wouldn't be sent to Azkaban for taking a much longer lunch than usual, she didn't want to spend more than 45 minutes in the bliss she had discovered that afternoon.

"Somewhere you have to be?" Hermione jumped from the voice as he caught her checking her watch for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes.

"Er, back to work, at some point. I just don't want to be late."

The boy nodded. He didn't say anything and the two sat silently for a few seconds before he said, "I'm Malcolm, by the way. It was nice having a read with you." His smile was warm and genuine. It made Hermione blush, but she was still curious as to why this Muggle had sought her out of the others he could have chatted with in the shop.

"Hermione. Thank you for the lunch. It was delicious."

"Unusual name that is, Hermione. Pretty, but not something you hear everyday."

She was used to comments such as this over the years. So many people had made comments about her unusual name, but she was proud of it. "My parents thought they were awfully clever when they named me. However I rather enjoy it."

Malcolm smiled yet again. He kept doing that, smiling. "It's very pretty, and clever, just like it's owner I presume." She blushed a brilliant red and began packing her bag, leaving 1984 on the coffee table in front of her. Malcolm picked it up, along with her used plate. "Well, Hermione, I should not keep you any longer, especially if you have to get back soon. It was very nice chatting with you, and I hoped you enjoyed your stay."

"Oh yes, I did. It was nice becoming immersed in the familiarity of pages and ink again, and good company." It was Malcolm's turn to blush this time, and he began packing up the dishes and bringing them back to the counter.

"You know where to find us now, I hope. We'll await your return."

Hermione waved goodbye to the boy and hurried out the door and into an alley where she could apparate safely back to work, and contemplate what had happened that afternoon.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Oh dear, I promise I don't keep you all waiting for updates on purpose. This chapter posed to be difficult to write for me, as I originally wanted her to run into Harry and Draco, but that idea crashed and burned. I wanted Hermione to have a break from that drama for one day, so you guys get another filler chapter. I promise that when I come up with more ideas of where I want this to go, I'll post more frequently.**

**As always, thank you so much for reading and tolerating my lack of updating, and please, please review!**

**~Beadlebug3**


	7. Chapter Seven: Compromises

Within minutes of departing the sandwich shop, Hermione was back in her office shuffling around papers. _Malcolm the Muggle_. She kept saying that over and over again in her head. He seemed oddly suspicious, like he knew she was different, but then again she did think everyone was suspicious after the war. She went through periods of nightmares where she would wake up and think Ron was a Death Eater come to get her.

Despite the suspicious barista, the shop was a wonderful place to get acquainted with herself once more. She was invisible, lost in her sea of books and words that brought her so much comfort. She decided to go back at a later point, get that sandwich she had eaten today, and pick up a book she didn't know. Maybe she could stop by on the weekend.

Strangely enough, she kept wondering if she herself thought Malcolm would be there.

However, a loud banging, and Harry's voice echoing through the solid wood interrupted her thoughts. Under his loud cries of her name, she heard Gracelynn's petite voice asking if he'd like to wait for me. Yet knowing Harry, she knew he just didn't choose to hear her, especially if she tried to get in the way of him and his best friend.

"'Mione, we need to talk," Harry exclaimed bursting through the door. Hermione waved Gracelynn off and shut the door behind him. "Have you seen the _Prophet_ recently?"

Hermione had in fact ignored the paper all weekend, except for the one article Draco had showed her. She told Harry so, omitting the part about meeting Draco at the Leaky Cauldron. Although she suspected that's what he was referring to.

"Well you're in luck, because I brought a copy of it to show you." He laid the cover page out on her desk, and there, smack dab in the middle of the front page, was a picture of she and Draco chatting casually. It was when he complimented her, because she mocked his kindness by grabbing her chest. His lips were curled into a smile.

"This is outrageous. 'Good girl Granger is finally getting a taste of the dark side as she spends more and more time with former Death Eater now good friend Draco Malfoy. The couple has been spotted two days in a row together laughing over drinks, and dancing together. No work yet on how Ronald Weasley, Ms. Granger's former husband is taking this dramatic turn of events-' Harry you don't really believe this, this _garbage_, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't, Hermione, but other people will. And you know how Ron gets. He might go and clobber the boy and we're just beginning to get reacquainted."

"If you didn't bring this in here to scold me, Harry, why did you show me in the first place?"

He hesitated. "I know I told you to be nice to Malfoy and get along with him-" Hermione's eyes were narrowed into slits. "But stay back in the shadows, please 'Mione. With your divorce just being finalized, it is no time for you to have any more publicity."

The young witch couldn't argue with him about that. He was right, staying in the shadows was good for both her and Draco. She began skimming the article and saw various paragraphs about their childhood rivalries that somehow turned into late night study sessions in the library where the two were rumored to have been seen together on various occasions, _snogging_.

Hermione sighed loudly at the absurdity, lifted the paper into her waste basket, and lit it on fire. "I will try to oblige to your wishes. I'm not going to hide from the Prophet forever, but I'll try to limit my interactions with Draco."

"Thank you, Hermione. I just don't want to see you overloaded with stress over this stupid publicity. You don't need it." Harry pulled her into a long hug, and Hermione let him hold her like that for a few minutes. The last time the two had an intimate moment like this was just before Harry had gone to face Lord Voldemort. There was an air of sadness around this hug, but Hermione wasn't sure why.

"How have your nightmares been?"

He whispered it into her ear in a concerned voice. She knew that he was worried about her, but more often than not she would lie to him and say they were getting better, although she knew he knew she was lying.

"They're fine. I wouldn't be worried." She pulled away and gave him a smile. He gave her a soft one back and held her for a few seconds more before announcing that he should go back to his office.

"I love you, 'Mione. Let me know if you need anything." He waved to her as he left, and disappeared through her large door, Auror robes trailing closely behind him.

Yet it was only minutes after she had sat down that an owl tapped on her large window. She recognized it as Draco's owl from the weekend, and it nipped her finger affectionately once she had let him in. The note tied to his leg was very short, and only had two sentences scribbled on it in Draco's neat cursive.

_Granger—_

_Come to the manor tonight to discuss the _Prophet _over dinner. Seven o'clock sharp._

_—D. Malfoy_

. . . . .

It was nearly quarter to seven, and Hermione still had no idea what she should wear. She was going to the infamous Malfoy Manor, where half of her nightmares took place. Where she had vowed to never go again.

But this time it was by invitation, and she was choosing to go; a stupid decision on her part. The way he worded the message to her, it seemed as though they would be discussing business over dinner, so she felt it should be more formal and business-like than 'date'.

No. No, she had to stop using that word.

With nearly ten minutes to get to the Manor, Hermione decided on a simple red dress that would stand out against the dark walls she remembered only too well, and it would remind Malfoy of the girl she really was. Since she got the invitation, she wasn't entirely sure he knew whom he was trying to befriend.

She disapparated quickly, and found herself outside of the open gates in a matter of seconds. Even with the brilliant orange and yellow sun disappearing behind the house, there was still so much brooding darkness that hung over the manor. Every bone in her body rejected this decision, but she knew she had to push forward.

When she knocked on the door, it was Malfoy himself that opened it. He was dressed in his usual black suit, but his face took on a bit of color when he saw her standing there.

"You look- uh, you look very nice, Granger. Please, come in." He nearly choked on the words but was able to get it out while keeping his strict composure. "Won't you come in?"

Hermione nodded and walked inside the manor, her entire body screaming to turn the other way. However this was a part of the Manor she had never seen before, and she continued to press onward with Malfoy just a few steps in front of her. She tried to not look at her surroundings as he led her to a smaller part of the manor, one that she had never would have guessed existed.

The walls and floors were still painted an ominous dark black and grey like the rest of the manor, but there were lights and candles making the room appear warmer than it was. A fire burned at the far wall, and there was a white tablecloth on the small table that was covered with various types of food. Malfoy gestured for her to sit across from him, and she obliged, still taking in the shocking room.

"Mother thought it would be a good idea for us to eat in a room that didn't look like the rest of the house. She is also in the process of redecorating, much to the dismay of my father."

Hermione had neglected to notice, as on the walk to the dining area she had kept her head down. However she would have a chance to look at the surroundings on her way back out of the manor, and at the moment became concerned with what exactly Malfoy wanted to discuss with her. "Are you still living here?" was the only question that could come to her mind in her current state of nervousness, and immediately she felt that it might have come off as a bit prudish, if such was the case.

Yet Malfoy did not this this was the case and answered calmly as he began digging into the food in front of him. Hermione did the same. "I do on occasion. Mother likes it when I visit, so I often spend the night here, yet I do have my own flat closer to London that is more home than this monstrosity. I would have much rather eaten there, but Mother insisted that I didn't know how to cook a proper meal and had this already set up when I arrived mere minutes before you did."

"Where are your parents tonight?" She was more than a little afraid of running into the infamous Lucius Malfoy. While his wife may have changed herself over the last five years, she was more than a little weary that he had.

"Mother dragged father out of the house so as not to disturb our conference. Wine?"

Hermione had finally gotten her answer. She nodded to the wine and took a small sip, but then decided, to hell with it, and took a much larger one. It was a very rich wine, one she was not surprised the Malfoys possessed.

"Slow down, Granger. Let us talk first, then we can get drunk." He gave her a sly smile, which caused her to drink the rest of her glass. He refilled it shaking his head. "I wanted to discuss with you what the _Prophet_ has turned us into. As I told you once, I enjoy remaining under the radar. I don't associate with people from the atrocious paper, nor do I allow myself to be interviewed. I am always careful, quiet, and apparate quickly when I fear I am being followed by that 'quivering quill' that they all seem to have adopted."

Hermione nodded and swirled around her second glass of wine, being careful to drink this one slower. He did have a point. While Harry, Ron, and she had always been the first to be picked up on, she had only seen Malfoy's name a few times, not including the two times he had been included in the pages due to her fame.

"I do not wish to end this acquaintanceship since we have gotten on such good terms with one another, but I do fear that if we continue to see one another in public, I may explode." Hermione giggled at this, and Malfoy smiled but only for a second. "So, it is now that I may propose a deal with you, Granger. Do you wish to continue interacting with me?"

Interacting felt like the wrong word to her, but she was sure he only used that word to limit the amount of stress that it may cause her being. She nodded.

"I propose then, that we only see one another in private. We limit ourselves to my flat and yours, and any Muggle shop so that we have a lesser chance of being followed. I know it may not be ideal, but it is the only idea I have managed to come up with thus far."

Hermione was unsure of this proposal, but it did sound better than being ridiculed daily. She finished her second glass and began to feel the effects of her first. Malfoy filled her glass and his as she mulled it over, and watched her reaction carefully. She tried to keep her face calm and thoughtful, yet she didn't know how well she was concealing her expressions.

When she finally spoke, Malfoy had already poured himself his third glass of wine and was waiting eagerly. Both had barely touched the food in front of them. "At this point, I think that is the best option," she finally replied.

Malfoy smiled contentedly, and the two dug into the dinners in silence.

. . . . .

Hermione didn't know how many drinks they had consumed when they had abandoned their dinners. She wasn't sure how many glasses Draco had poured for her, or himself, or how many bottles they had gone through as they made their way towards the fire place. It was magically lit, so that it would never go out, and never spread farther than the place it was lit. They sat on the floor next to one another, Draco cradling their second bottle of wine and his own glass. The two had not stopped laughing since they abandoned the food and only consumed their drinks.

She wasn't sure what time it was either, yet she assumed it was much later than she intended on staying. But her intoxicated mind did not mind the fact that it was a Monday night and she was sharing another bottle of wine with her school-nemesis. She did not mind that they were sitting on the floor and that it was quite possible he could see her underwear. She did not mind that their shoes had been kicked off and they were sitting closer than they had ever before, breathing on one another as they laughed loudly in one another's personal spaces.

"You –hic– did _what_ to Professor Trelawney?" Hermione could not stop laughing as Draco retold the tale of how Goyle set her robes on fire after Hermione had stormed out in their third year.

"The idiot knocked –hic– over one of her candles and it just so happened to –hic– land on the back of her robes!" Again, the pair burst into another fit of hiccups and giggles, Hermione spilling some of her wine on the floor. Draco cleaned it up with the flick of his wand and took her glass from her. "I think that's –hic– enough wine for you."

"I suppose you're right," she said laughing into her palm. Both of their cheeks were red, and the smiles had not left their faces for what felt like hours. Yet suddenly, Draco became sullen and had a confused expression overtake his features.

"I don't know why I ever disliked you, Hermione." He stopped, then rephrased. "Well, I do know _why_, but now it seems so foreign. I'm friends with Potter, and we've gotten drunk together twice now. It, it's just strange, you know?"

Hermione nodded. She too had thought about this for hours on end, contemplating what she and Draco were in fact. But right now her head was too full of wine to think properly. She could only nod and agree instead of giving her own insight. Draco took another sip of wine before putting it aside.

"We could consider ourselves friends now, couldn't we?"

Draco looked her earnestly. She stared back into his grey eyes, and before she could stop herself, she kissed him softly. He didn't pull away, but also didn't kiss her harder, but Hermione could most definitely feel him kissing her back.

His lips were soft and warm. She had never imagined kissing him would feel as comforting as it did, but then she reminded herself that she had always nearly thrown up at the thought of ever bringing herself close enough for kissing to be an option. When she pulled away, his eyes looked sad, but content at the same time. Hermione could feel her cheeks burning.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I meant to say yes, not, not _that_." She hid her face with her hands an Draco gave a drunken laugh.

"Who would have though, Hermione Granger had the balls." His laughter was contagious, and soon Hermione had joined in. She couldn't believe it either, and almost didn't, yet they had just parted lips only seconds before. Draco started hiccupping again. "Come on. I can't –hic– let you apparate in this state. You can sleep –hic– in a guest room."

Hermione, not fully registering what she was agreeing to, took his hand as he helped her up, and led her to the upper parts of the manor, her arm wrapped around his the entire way up the stairs.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Whew, that was a bit of a busy chapter. I hope to get back to a regular updating schedule now that the story is picking up more, and I can promise that Hermione isn't going to turn into some sort of Alcoholic. **

**Let me know what you guys think of this new chapter, and definitely what you think will happen after that kiss. ;)**

**As always, thank you so much for reading, and don't be afraid to send me a review, all criticism is welcome!**

**~Beadlebug3**


	8. Chapter Eight: Confessions

_She was running from something, but she wasn't quite sure exactly what she was running from at the moment. Maybe she was running towards something. Everything around her was pitch black, and she could have been running in circles for all she knew. There were no doors, no windows, and if he her feet hadn't been pounding the ground and her fingers hadn't been stroking the walls, she would have though those were not there either. Every now and then she would hear a high-pitched laughter somewhere off in the distance, but no matter how quickly she turned, there was never able to catch what direction it was coming from. So she continued running until a light began to appear, and she saw that she was indeed running down a very long, very dark hallway. Hermione sprinted faster, but she never seemed to get any closer to the light. Her feet refused to carry her closer, and it was only when she saw the mess of black curls out of the corner of her eye that she began to scream. _

The young witch's head was throbbing and all of her muscles ached. The dream had left her shaken and confused, but overall her brain was _pounding_ on the insides of her skull. She was soon distracted by the remnants of the dream when she realized she had no idea whose bed she had fallen asleep in.

The room was dark, and the window directly across from the bed showed that the sun was only just rising. As her eyes adjusted, she took in her surroundings and deducted that this was not a bedroom she had ever seen before. The bed was quite large, and there was a fireplace in one corner with a reading chair and rather large bookcase, which was comforting to look at, she had to admit. Although not remembering where she was, she was a little frightened to go and take a book off the shelf and begin to read, as she didn't know what kind of magic was hidden between their pages.

It wasn't until she had looked down at the bed sheets did she notice she was not in the clothes she had worn the night before. She was still in her own underwear (thank goodness), yet the nightgown she was dressed in was one that was completely foreign to her. It was black and fit well around her figure from what she could tell, but she wanted nothing more than to find her own clothes and change out of these strange ones.

Thankfully, it only took a few seconds for Hermione to find her wand and light up the remainder of the bedroom to find the red dress she had worn to the manor the night before. She had gone to the manor, right? Oh yes, yes she remembered now. She didn't remember very much, but she knew that at some point or another she had gone to the manor. _I'm most likely still_ in _the manor then_, she thought as she searched. However despite how simple one would think it would be to find a red dress in a dank and dark room, she did not see anything bright sticking out in the room.

Eventually, she decided to brave the manor and begin to explore. Maybe she could find some hangover potion on her journey, because her head felt like it was about to fall off of her neck. Yet as much as she wanted to find her clothes and that potion, she also wanted to find clues of how she had gotten changed last night, and why she in fact had stayed the night in the manor that haunted her dreams.

She walked down a long corridor of closed doors, but was too nervous to open any of them. Any one room could open up to a sleeping Draco, or worse, sleeping Lucius and Narcissa. The sun had not yet risen all of the way, so she suspected that the kitchen would be free to raid for a potion and cup of coffee, and she would still have time to clean her mess before anyone would have known. But first, she needed something to cover herself with, for as comfortable as the nightgown was, it showed a bit too much.

At the end of her borrowed bed, there was a long sweater she had neglected to notice before and proceeded to wrap it around herself. It smelled of the manor, but mixed with a more boyish scent. She suspected that it was Draco's, and while a year ago the thought of wearing one of his clothing items would have made her sick, this morning she hugged it tight to her skin, glad to be wearing something more concealing.

It didn't occur to her until she had gotten down the stairs that she had no idea where the kitchen might be located. In the Weasley home it took up nearly half of the downstairs. In Harry and Ginny's flat it was after the living room. But in a manor? She wasn't even sure where normal Muggles other than her own family had their kitchens. She was doomed to be hopelessly lost and end up sitting in a dark corner reliving her worst memories.

"Lost?" A slick voice pushed it's way through the darkness and Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to her left to see a pajama clad Draco holding two large mugs of coffee. His blonde hair was sticking up in all directions, and he looked more down to earth than he did in his normal daytime attire.

Hermione was grateful for the cover the dark air gave as she blushed. "Only a little bit. I would have been able to find my way."

Draco chuckled. "Sure, Granger. Here, take your coffee, I have already poured anti-hangover potion in it. Follow me, and I can make you some breakfast."

She was hesitant, as always, but found that she trusted this Draco much more than the one she used to know, and fell into step beside him. He had dark circles under his grey eyes, but walked straight and upright, even in the comforts of his own home. His pajamas, however, were much less revealing than hers. He wore a simple t-shirt and long woolen pants, and outfit she didn't think someone as high up as the Malfoys would ever possess even in their trash bin.

"Uhm, Draco?" Hermione coughed and cleared her throat before speaking. "How, er, how did I end up in these clothes?"

Draco looked at her and laughed. "Do you really not remember, Granger?" She blushed again, shaking her head. "Well, it's all a little fuzzy to me too, but what is the last thing you remember from last night?"

"I remember drinking, and lots of it. The wine was very delicious last night, I remember that."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards. "Anything after that?" When she shook her head no, he took a sip of his coffee and gestured for her to sit, as they had found the large kitchen. He sat across from her at the island and began speaking. "From what I remember –and remember, my memory is a bit hazy as well– we sat on the floor for a while drinking, and you spilled a bit I believe. Well, that's what the stain on your dress told me anyway." Hermione winced at that part. So he did have her dress somewhere. And there was a wine stain on it. It wouldn't take long to get the stain out via magic, it was just painstaking and time consuming. "After that I believe I suggested you stay the night here so you didn't get lost apparating home."

"Well yes, I know this part, I woke up here, remember?" She was getting impatient. She just wanted to know what had happened after he suggested she stay here. Draco gave her a look of annoyance that mirrored the one he used to give her in their old school days and she shut up.

"Anyway, you stayed the night but asked if you could borrow clothes since your dress had a stain, and I took you to my mother's closet and told you which ones she wouldn't miss, and surprisingly you picked that one. After that things get a bit confusing, although I can see by the fact that you're wearing my sweater I must have left it for you. The gown you picked out looked very UN-Hermione like, I can tell you that."

Hermione looked down into her coffee. "So, we didn't do anything, you know, together?"

"What?" Draco began to laugh. "Oh god no, Granger. No. After I showed you your room I passed out rather quickly in mine, still in my clothes from the night before. I only changed because my suit was wrinkled and uncomfortable."

A sigh of relief flooded over Hermione as she finished her coffee. Miraculously, there was a clock over on the far wall that read five-thirty. She would have to be at work in a few hours.

"Although there is one thing." She froze and refused to look the former Slytherin in the eye. "I believe you kissed me, I guess in thanks? I'm not particularly sure. I was shocked though, Granger. I wasn't expecting anything like that from you."

Hermione could not speak. It felt as if her tongue was glued to the bottom of her mouth. _She had kissed Draco Malfoy_? She must have been barking drunk to do something as crazy as that. "I'm sorry, I-I'm sure I didn't mean to, I mean, oh dear." Her head fell into her hands, defeated.

"Granger it's nothing to be sorry about, you were incredibly drunk. I mean, I've had brainless, loveless sex when I've gotten blackout drunk. You, kept your ground very well, as I somewhat recall."

His words offered little comfort. "I should go, go home, take a shower, get ready for work today—"

"I already owled you in late. You can go in whenever you need to recover, you should sleep more instead of putting more stress on yourself. I was surprised when I found you wandering the halls, I thought I'd have to wake you up for coffee at noon."

"That won't be necessary, Malfoy. Thank you for calling me in late, but I really should go." She finished the last few dregs of her coffee, which at this point made her feel sicker. She had _kissed _her school-nemesis. Granted, things had changed, but hadn't she made a promise to Harry that she wouldn't do something like this? Of course she had already betrayed her best friend, so who knows what would happen next? "Do you have my dress?"

Draco waved his wand and the dress appeared folded: stain and wrinkle free. "You can apparate home from right here, we don't have the blockers on the house any longer. And return the gown and sweater when most convenient."

She nodded. "Thank you for taking care of me last night. It is greatly appreciated." And with that she disapparated, clutching Malfoy's sweater close to her chest.

. . . . .

When she appeared in her apartment, she wrote out two owls; one to work to tell Gracelynn she wouldn't be coming in today because of a severe stomach-ache resulting from some rancid meat she had for dinner the night before, and one to Ginny asking her to come to her flat as soon as she could.

She sent the S.O.S to Ginny first, because she knew as soon as she got the message, she would take her owl and apparate quickly over so she could send the second to work later on in the day. It was still early, so hopefully Hermione was catching Ginny as she was preparing for practice.

Within minutes there was a loud crack in her sitting area, and Ginny came running into Hermione's room where she had collapsed onto her bed.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what happened? And what are you wearing?" She let go of her owl that was screeching under the pressure and came to sit down next to the older witch.

There was nothing Hermione could say except groan loudly, and Ginny took that as the hint to go make coffee. For the next hour or so, Ginny was apparating in and out of the apartment with groceries, coffee, snacks, tissues, and even sent off Hermione's owl to the Ministry. She also took off from practice to remain with Hermione for the rest of the day.

"Should I call the other girls? Should Fleur and Luna come over?"

Hermione could only shake her head and sip her coffee. "No," she finally croaked out. "No, I-I can't talk to them about this. Just you, Gin. You can't tell Harry either. N-No one."

"Cross my heart, 'Mione. Let's go to the kitchen and I'll get your more coffee, and maybe some more hangover potion if you haven't had any already."

The two witches made their way to Hermione's small kitchen, and Ginny went about preparing breakfast for the two of them and pouring another strong helping of anti-hangover potion into Hermione's coffee. It was funny how the younger witch always seemed to know what Hermione needed.

"Okay, so tell me what happened," she said placing eggs and pancakes in front of Hermione. Ginny herself didn't start eating until after Hermione had taken a bite.

"Gin, I did something awful." Ginny waited patiently for Hermione to continue, and soon it all spilled out. The short letters, the meetings, the _Prophet_, the dinner, the drinking, and finally her staying the night and the kiss. Of course, Ginny hadn't believed what the _Prophet_ had been saying about she and Malfoy, but to hear it come out of Hermione's lips, she was shocked.

"You did _what_ to Malfoy?" The kiss, of course, was the biggest news out of all. Ginny couldn't wrap her head around it, yet neither could Hermione. They were both in shock, and Hermione downed her third cup of coffee since she woke up with ease. She didn't have a hangover any longer, but she wished she could get drunk just to forget everything again.

"'Mione that's _big_. God, if Harry or Ron found out… Well, you'd be in deep shit if that happened."

Hermione wanted to cry. She didn't know what her life was coming to. With Ron there had been so much stability, so much that she already knew. They could have been happy together, but now, now there was never any chance of going back to the romance they once had. She wasn't sure where her life was going anymore. "Ginny my life is falling apart. Before you know it I'll have to quit my job and move in with my mum in Australia!" She slammed her head on the kitchen table and let it rest there, Ginny quietly stroking her knotted hair.

"No, no 'Mione, that won't happen. You're just confused right now, you'll be okay. Take it slow with Malfoy, don't see him for a few days, few _weeks_ if necessary. I won't tell Harry, or Ron. You should tell mum though, you know she'll be able to help."

Hermione gave a small nod and sniffled. "Maybe." Her voice was muffled both from the sudden congestion that comes with crying, and her nose being pressed up against the table.

"And don't feel bad. I'm sure most girls at Hogwarts dreamed of hooking up with the infamous Malfoy bad boy at one point in their life." Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at that thought. "You're just ahead of the game now. Come on, let's go watch those films you're always going on about, I'm sure dad would be pleased to know I finally watched the telly and actually sat through a program."

Ginny helped Hermione up from the table, and the two witches walked side by side, arm in arm to the sitting room where Hermione spent most of the day dozing on and off on Ginny's shoulder.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Woo! Getting updates to you guys super quickly makes me happy. Although I should have been doing scholarship work during this 80 minute free period instead of writing fanfiction. I REGRET NOTHING.**

**Anyway, lots to think about now. I have yet to decide how I want chapter nine to go, but I'm thinking of breaking from the traditional path and having this next chapter be from Draco's perspective of how the morning/day after Hermione left go? Thoughts? Suggestions if that's the path you don't want me to take? Let me know!**

**~Beadlebug3**


	9. Chapter Nine: Morning at the Manor

When Hermione disapparated, Draco was left alone in his too large kitchen sipping a coffee that was getting cold too quickly and trying to not think about the Gryffindor that left a too large hole in his head. He couldn't stop picturing how she wrapped his sweater around her body to hide the fact that she picked out a very revealing nightgown to wear to bed. Her cheeks were almost as red as the dress she had worn to dinner-

_Goddammit, Draco. Snap out of it. She just got divorced, and that snog meant nothing. Absolutely nothing._

He held his head in his hands, his brain pounding against the walls from the immense amount of confused emotions that were washing over him, and the hangover that hadn't yet disappeared. It was still early, and having called in late to work, he would end up being at the manor for a long time; at least until his mother decided to crawl from the corners of the manor that she now slept in. Seeing the look on Hermione's face after he had told her that hey kissed was enough to curb his appetite for a few days. He hadn't realized that even after spending all of this time together, she was still so repulsed by the thought of kissing him.

He groaned into his hands and rubbed his eyes, magically pouring himself another cup of coffee laced with the hangover potion. The second cup helped his head much more than the first, but the aching feeling he had contracted was still all around him. He let his head fall onto the island countertop and groaned even louder, thinking that he was completely alone in his suffering.

"Draco? Draco dear are you still here?" He didn't raise his head, but groaned again as a yes. He could hear his mother's feet on the kitchen floor and soon felt her thing hands resting on his shoulders. "What ails you, Draco? I haven't seen you like this since you were a little boy."

He lifted his head off of the table but didn't look at her. "You're awake early, mother. I would have suspected that you would have slept later since you were out so late last night."

"Do not worry about me, Draco. Unlike you, I did not drink last night." She came around the island to sit where Hermione had while finishing her coffee. It always seemed to surprise him when his mother was not dressed for the press. In the mornings she wore a grey robe with her hair in a bun, and while she still look presentable, there was more normalcy to her when she had just crawled out of bed than when she was preparing for an interview. "Your father on the other hand…" Her voice trailed off, and while she attempted to appear like the dotting wife she so often was, her façade fell for a moment to reveal her utter disgust with the little her husband was doing to help them conform to a more 'normal' family.

Draco took a sip of his coffee and tried to avoid her gaze. She often scolded instead of judged, unlike his father. The thought of the few words his father would say on the subject of Granger made his lip curl. Trying to please his mother, he attempted to move towards the future and better himself. His father had instead hidden in the cave that is the manor and refused to change his mindset.

_He is a coward. He raised me to be like him and look where I am now. I am disgusted with him and myself. He remains a coward and will always be a coward and hide in his pitiful existence._

"Draco." Narcissa's voice was quiet and calm. Her facial expressions showed the exact opposite of Draco's. She was calm and collected, watching her son carefully as the wrinkles in his forehead began to unfold and his fists unclenched. "Tell me what it is, Draco." She reached for one of his hands and clasped it between hers. Draco wasn't sure whether to actually begin talking, or rip his hand away as he had done those many years ago. He didn't need comfort. Didn't want it. There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing wrong, nothing abnormal-

"I'm fine, mother. Just tired." He left his hand in his mother's though, allowing the witch to let go on her own time. She watched him tentatively before finally releasing his hand.

"You do know that I care about you, don't you, Draco?" He nodded, head bowed at the island once more. He didn't want to look at his mother while she spoke kindly to him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve the sympathy, and he certainly did not deserve love, or the friendship with Granger. "You should go back to your flat and sleep before your shift. I'll send your things over this afternoon."

Draco merely nodded and was about to disapparated when Narcissa gave him a small kiss on the forehead. She was worried about him, he knew, but there was nothing he could do but nod towards her and disappear from the cold kitchen.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I am so ridiculously sorry this chapter is so short and took me forever to write. Draco's perspective was much harder seeing as I'm trying to keep his character without changing it, so let me know what you guys think of this little mini chapter nine (or 8.5 if you'd rather think of it as) and if I should include more Draco perspectives along the way!**

**Sorry sorry sorry again for taking so long, I don't mean to!**

**~Beadlebug3**


	10. Chapter Ten: Coincidences

When Hermione woke, Ginny had abandoned the telly and draped a blanket over her sleeping form. The younger witch was nowhere to be seen, however there was the distinct smell of sandwiches being made coming from the kitchen. Hermione rubbed her eyes and crawled off of the couch, wrapping the long blanket around her sleepy form and trudged towards the kitchen where Ginny had made a mess of things and attempted to cook.

"Oh good, you're awake. I owled Mum and told her some of what happened, and she said she'd be over as soon as she could be. Is that okay with you?"

Hermione just nodded, not really caring what Ginny did at that moment in time. When the blanket fell from her shoulder, she noticed she was still dressed in the Malfoys' attire.

"I should go change, shouldn't I?"

There was a pause as Ginny looked over Hermione and she calmly stated, "Well you can if you want, but you look smokin' like that," and returned back to her monstrous cooking as Hermione scoffed and smiled, trailing back to her bedroom to put on something more Hermione-like.

When she found a—hopefully clean—pair of loose pants in a pile on her floor, she shed the revealing nightgown, but felt hesitant to take off the sweater. It was warm and comfortable, and it couldn't hurt to wear it for the rest of the day, could it? After a moment of thought, she decided to just continue wearing it.

_There's nothing wrong with that. No, not at all, he said I could borrow it. It's fine, I'll wash it when I'm done and then send it back via owl yeah that's what I'll do…_

As Hermione mentally argued with herself, a small crack sounded from the sitting area, and Molly Weasley's voice could be heard echoing through the flat.

"Ginny, love, what have you done to the food? If you wanted food you could have waited for me."

"Mum I cook all of the time at home for Harry, it's fine. I know what I'm doing." Hermione could hear the smile in her voice and emerged from the shadows. Mrs. Weasley was already bustling around Hermione's more modern kitchen cleaning and preparing beverages and small snacks other than the lunch Ginny had attempted to prepare.

She stood in the doorway of the small kitchen just watching the two redheaded witches bump into one another and smile to themselves. There were times when Hermione missed having this type of relationship with her own mother, but she knew Mrs. Weasley would always be there to take care of her.

The older witch had regained some of her natural plumpness since the war had ended, and her crazy red hair had bits of grey interwoven through her skull, but she still had her old laugh lines and motherly attire that Hermione so loved on the woman. Hermione had decided long ago that if she ever got a chance to rewrite the Wizard dictionary, Mrs. Weasley's face would be the picture next to 'mother.'

"Hermione dear stop lurking in the shadows and come sit down. I've helped Ginny make up some things and we are going to sit down and talk about this as a family." Mrs. Weasley gave her a wide smile and ushered her to sit, even pulling out a chair at the small kitchen table. "Now dear," she spoke while pouring her a hearty glass of water and placing small and simple pastries in front of her. "Tell me _exactly_ what happened."

. . . . .

Once Hermione had finished the story a second time, she let her head fall loudly on the table. She didn't want to look at Mrs. Weasley's face after having told the dreadful tale. There was some silence and shuffling of tea mugs, but no one spoke for a painfully long time.

"Hermione, it isn't my place to tell you who you should be snogging or not." She had to suppress a groan. If it was going the way Hermione expected, she would be very embarrassed and forced to work from home or actually more in with her mum and dad in Australia.

"Hermione please look at me."

She looked up slowly at Mrs. Weasley. Her expression was not anything that Hermione could have expected however. The woman's eyes were kind and there was a soft smile on her lips.

"While I am upset that my son divorced such a talented young witch so soon, I will not hold that over either of your heads. I have yet to speak with Mr. Malfoy, but what Harry has told me he does seem like a talented and intelligent young man. Just, please be careful, dear. I don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione sat with her face slightly stunned at what she had just heard. Nevertheless she responded quickly, "I promise I'm going to try and distance myself. I did not mean for any of it to happen like this. I-I-"

Mrs. Weasley cut her off with a hug and no one said another word while they finished the lunch that had grown cold in front of them.

. . . . .

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley stayed much later than they intended just catching up, and it was nice to be able to enjoy their company again. They left only after the two promised to not tell a soul about what was going on, especially the Weasley boys who would taunt her endlessly. Ginny had let slip that Ron was not particularly happy with Harry and Draco becoming better friends either, so this news could potentially send him into shock.

Mrs. Weasley had insisted on cleaning Hermione's kitchen while they chatted, so naturally the house sparkled as if Hermione had gotten down on her hands and knees and scrubbed the place. It took her a while to realize, but after talking to the duo, she felt so much more relaxed about the situation at hand.

It was evening at that point, and Hermione did not feel like sulking about the house for any longer. She dressed in muggle clothing and decided to actually use her apartment door to take a walk about the neighborhood.

Specifically, she chose a muggle apartment building because it reminded her of her mum and dad. Being around people who lived such average lives was comforting to her. There were a few witches and wizards living in the random quarters, and Hermione had run into them from time to time, but it was very rare that they 'got together' as many of the muggle neighbors did. Yet the simplicity and isolation of her location comforted her, and she wondered why she didn't go out more often. There were no muggle writers looking for a story about her, and no one knew her name in the muggle community. The only thing she had to hide here was her magic. Which, in retrospect, wouldn't be too hard.

Surprisingly, she had made it down to the lobby without running into a single person. She felt lucky that no one had appeared before her, but was constantly on her toes, keeping her wand close at hand.

Walking as quietly as she could past the landlord's door, Hermione managed to slip out the main doors and into the evening sunlight. There was some traffic from muggle work, but otherwise it was a perfect day to take a walk alone.

Until she heard her name being called, that is.

Hermione whipped around to see Malcolm jogging towards her in the hustle and bustle of evening traffic. His dark hair was windswept, but the smile on his face looked genuine. Hermione tried to smile back, but could only do so for a second before she started thinking about the coincidences of the situation. When he reached her, he held out his hand for her to shake and said, "I had no idea we lived in the same building. When I saw you walk out, I was dumbfounded."

In her head, Hermione was horrified. But on the outside she kept a calm demeanor and shook his hand, playing along with everything he was saying. In this moment, she lied more than any other point in her life, discussing her early rising schedule so she's always out of the apartment before seven a.m., and the extensive amount of things she has to do between when she gets off work and when she slinks back into her apartment.

"I guess we just miss each other a lot then. I usually don't stray from my schedule, but I was feeling a little under the weather and decided to go for a walk to clear my head." Hermione did her best to hide, and she wasn't sure how much of it he was actually buying, but instead of being repulsed by her 'sickness,' he offered to walk with her wherever she was going.

"If you'll just wait right here I'll drop my things off in my apartment and then we'll go somewhere-"

"If it's alright with you, I would prefer to walk by myself. I especially don't want you to catch whatever I have come down with."

Malcolm looked slightly hurt, but bounced back quickly, smiling just as he had before. "Hermione, if you're really that sick, you shouldn't be out of the house at all. Now I'll be back in five minutes don't move, we can just chat." And before she knew it, he had disappeared inside the building and was sprinting to the elevators.

She would have thought that having lived with her muggle parents for 17 years and interacting with muggle students for all of primary school, and even then still taking muggle studies she would be prepared for an instance such as this. Yet unfortunately, school does not teach you these basic social skills, and Hermione was left standing on the sidewalk trying to come up with a clever way to ditch the poor boy that wanted nothing more than to chat.

_Stop it, Hermione! There's absolutely nothing wrong with walking and talking with him for a half hour or so. It's not like you had anything better to do._

On the outside, she was standing stock-still and waiting patiently. But on the inside her mind was racing too fast for her to comprehend even the simplest thought. One part of her really wanted to get to know him better and spend some time just talking, but the more dominant part of her brain was screaming to get the hell out and not get involved in something she might regret later on.

"So are you rea-"

"I'm really feeling under the weather all of a sudden I'm sorry. I guess we'll have to go for a walk some other time."

Malcolm's face almost instantly spread to concern. Hermione held her head as she nodded rapidly, hoping he'll take the hint that she needed to be left alone.

"Yes, I think I'll just head back to my room and go to sleep, if that's all right with you."

Malcolm nodded and offered to walk her to her apartment so he knew at least she was getting back safely. Feeling bad, she obliged his wishes and the two retreated back towards the elevator, Hermione keeping as much of a distance between them as she could.

"What floor?" he asked, following her into the elevator.

"Six."

"Huh, we must me neighbors then. I'm on that floor too. It's very quiet. Thick walls."

Hermione knew for a fact the walls weren't thick and the only reason their floor and the one above and below them were quiet was because Hermione had put a charm on them so they would stay that way. She enjoyed her quiet, and especially didn't want her neighbors to hear her or her owl. But of course, she couldn't tell him that, so she just nodded

"This is it. I'm sure we'll see one another soon then." Hermione nodded and opened the door quickly, wanting nothing more now than to sleep like she told Malcolm she would.

"I'm sure we will." He gave her a small smile and wished her a goodnight before walking only a door down the hall and disappearing into his apartment.

Hermione locked her door both the muggle way and the wizard way, hoping that sleep would come painlessly tonight, and soon.

Little did she know, Draco was thinking the same.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Dear readers,**

**I do apologize profusely for not keeping up with my writing. I completely intended to, but with my AP tests and preparing for graduation which is just next week, my entire everything has been on procrastination mode. This chapter was only meant to be a filler and to me, they get a tad boring to write but are very completely necessary. But because of that, I put it off for so long and developed serious writers block and I apologize.**

**Please, if you can, comment and review so I can improve as much as I can for you guys. I will do my best to get the next chapter out soon, and I will definitely incorporate more of Draco's POV in the future.**

**See you soon,**

**Beadlebug3**


	11. Chapter 11: Nightmares of a Conscience

In a millisecond, Draco was back in his own flat surrounded by the piles of books and Magical Medical Journals he kept lying around. Currently left open on the couch was a relatively old MMJ describing a very serious case of splinching that occurred almost 50 years ago. Half of the man's body was spewed across the length of the journey, and the patient was almost lost if not for the Healer who managed to keep the remaining (and later found) limbs preserved while working on an exceptionally difficult charm on the man's body; a spell that was much more advanced than the time, and three times as complicated.

That was the particular spell Draco had been studying just a few nights ago, and he had wanted to master it before heading into work that morning. Yet the coffee he had consumed at the manner did not work as well as Draco had hoped, and he was far too tired to continue the reading that morning.

His owl screeched from his post just a few yards away, and Draco rubbed his eyes attempting to keep them open for just another ten minutes while he found his way to the bedroom.

_I really must clean this mess_, he thought while stepping over various piles of books. _Or buy a bookshelf to hold all of these_.

His face scrunched up as he tried to not knock down the pile that was sitting just off to the side of his bedroom door. It was constantly in his way, yet he did absolutely nothing to move it.

His bedroom was in the same state as the rest of the flat, and it was a miracle that he was able to find a clean spot to crash onto and fall asleep. Although when he woke, he did not feel particularly rested.

At best, his nightmares only came every once in a while, and only ever once in a night. But that early morning, one dream melted into the next listening to Hermione screams echo throughout his head. She screamed in the presence of his Aunt Bellatrix as she tortured her. She screamed being killed at the Second Wizarding War. She screamed as Draco was forced to torture her. On and on the screaming carried and there was no way for him to turn it off.

When his internal alarm went off, he jumped from his bed sweating and knocking over several books in the process. He watched as they fell sprawled over his floor, but couldn't make himself move to pick them up or even walk to the bathroom to splash his face with water. He stood shaking and sweating over the sounds that only a few times haunted him. And it was all coming back.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, he went to shower to further calm himself and prepared for a day at St. Mungo's; although he wasn't sure that he was in a particularly well enough state of mind to help anyone at the current time.

Despite the warmth of the water, Draco could not clear his head. He scrubbed his head trying to scratch away the thoughts, but only came away with more anger and frothy hands, which he banged against the tile, effectively causing his knuckles to bleed.

_Goddammit, Draco! Why did you let her do that to you? Why did you let her get inside your head with her trivial games?_

He got out of the shower and heeled his knuckles, cursing under his breath at his stupidity.

_You never had this sort of trouble with anyone else. Why her. Why the mudblood. Why now. _He continued to bang his hands into his head and grasped the edge of his sink with his eyes shut. _Control. Regain control, Draco. You can't let Granger get to you._

It wasn't long before he was able to regain his composure and dress in his green robes before apparating to St. Mungo's where he was expected to make his rounds. He apparated into the lobby of the magical hospital right into the center of the hustle and bustle, but no one even batten an eyelash that he had arrived.

Carrying his paperwork under his arm, Draco took the lift to the fourth floor where his office resided and where he would have to go around later that day and check on his patients.

Working at the hospital wasn't particularly extraneous work most of the time, as his patients remained more or less in the same state he had left them in the previous day. The nurses kept him on call just in case something happened, but in his particular section of the department of Spell Damage, not much changed from day to day.

He worked mainly with those who were hexed with Dark Magic, as, given his history, that was what he excelled at. Yet he was permitted to assist and direct when working with cases of other spell damages, such as in the case of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart. It was with this particular patient that Draco began his rounds.

"Good day, Gilderoy. How are you feeling today?" Draco enjoyed calling the ex-professor by his first name. It gave him a sense of power over the man who made one of his favorite classes a living hell. However from time to time Draco had to remind himself that while he was technically above Lockhart, he could not abuse the power as he could be fired. So he merely mocked the man in his head while jotting down notes on his clipboard.

Lockhart had been on the ward since Draco's second year—almost ten years now—and he was no closer to leaving than he was to remember anything about his past life. It was something like teaching a small child that their goldfish had died without actually telling them the fish was dead. Gilderoy just did not want to accept that he was once a wizard hell bent on fame and fortune and didn't care who he hurt to get it.

"Good day, Doctor Malfoy. I just finished one of those awful books you told me I should read and quite frankly I didn't like it at all."

_Great. The author hates his own work. Just what we need. Another failure with this moron._

But instead of voicing his opinion, he talked civilly to Lockhart until a nurse came to work with him more on regaining his memory. Draco just rubbed his temple and kept moving through his patients, until the last two names came up on his document.

Alice and Frank Longbottom were a part of his rounds, although it was not a part of his day he actively enjoyed. Looking at him was just another reminder of his deranged family, and he usually spent a considerable amount of time talking more to the nurse about their current state than them. On the days their son, Neville, visits, Draco tends to skip right over their room until after his old school mate and his grandmother leave so as not to make an awkward encounter.

Because the Longbottoms didn't know who Draco was or who he was related to, they were generally pleased to see him, which only made him feel guiltier.

_Why do I suddenly care about everything. Why did my conscious have to all of a sudden turn on. Why does every little thing get to me._

Draco concluded that he wasn't getting enough sleep and that was why he was acting up, so before his day was over, he packed up his paperwork and apparated straight into his flat where he couldn't shake the though of Alice and Frank.

It was similar with Hermione; whenever he looked at her he was reminded about how much damage his family (especially his Aunt) had caused, and it only reminded him further of what he never wanted to become again.

As he crawled into his bed for the second time in twelve hours, Draco hoped that the nightmares would stay at bay, and he would wake up finally feeling refreshed and prepared for the next day without any emotional interruptions.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I'm definitely going to try and update way more now that things are beginning to slow down (ish. Graduation is still coming up) so I hope you guys enjoy and don't forget to review review review they help so much to hear what you guys are thinking while reading. :)**

**Beadlebug3**


	12. Chapter 12: Just the Beginning

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what to think about Malcolm. Now that he knew they lived in the same building, he was constantly waiting for her in the lobby when she was on her way home, and oftentimes would stop by her apartment to see if she wanted to take that walk with him. And it was a shame too; Hermione did want to take that walk with him, but she was more than a little skeptical of who he was. She had hardly had any proper interaction with Muggles in years, and while she was usually a decent judge of character, Muggles seemed to stump her more than they used to.

She had attempted to talk to Ginny about Malcolm, but most of what came out of her mouth was "just go on the bloody walk with him, already!"

After a week of successfully avoiding running into him, she realized he would never let it go. Not only that, but she hadn't been to the shop where he worked in weeks, and she was suddenly craving that sandwich she had eaten. So after Ginny had told her to go on the walk with him for quite possibly the twentieth time that week, she finally decided to make a lunch date with herself on a day she knew Malcolm would be working.

Surprisingly she remembered where it was, and walked through the red door just as Malcolm finished serving someone. His eyes lifted to see who had come in, and an instant smile appeared on his face when he realized who it was.

"Hermione! I feel like it's been so long since we last saw one another face to face. I take it you're feeling better, yes?" His curiosity was sincere, and as he talked he began whipping up the same coffee she had drank the first time she was here.

"Oh yes, much better, thank you. It was just a terrible head cold. Although I'm not particularly sure how I managed to come down with that one during the summer."

Malcolm smiled warmly and handed her the coffee. "Well I'm glad you're feeling better. Do you want me to prepare the same sandwich as well for you?"

Hermione nodded and began fishing around her bag for the Muggle money she always carried around with her, but even when she used a silent Accio charm, it did not appear. Her cheeks turned bright red as she shut her bag, and she put the coffee back onto the countertop gingerly. When Malcolm noticed her change in body language, she explained that she must have left her wallet back on her desk at the office.

"Don't worry, it'll be on me. But don't let this become a habit." He kept smiling at her, which only made Hermione feel guiltier.

"Well there must be something I can do—" and immediately she regretted those words, because Malcolm's entire face lit up and he grabbed a sharpie from behind the register.

"I know exactly how you can." He grabbed her still full coffee cup and sharpied in some numbers across the side. "That's my phone number. I want you to call me when you want to take that walk. Just to talk. Does that sound reasonable?" Hermione nodded. "Good. Now. I am going to finish making this magnificent sandwich for you, and work through my lunch break to earn that money back. I hope to hear from you soon."

Hermione stared into his bright eyes and thought for a moment she might be beginning to trust this boy, but instead of promising what she knew he wanted to hear, merely smiled and nodded before taking her coffee into the corner she had previously claimed as her own.

A short while later Malcolm dropped her sandwich off, and every now and then Hermione could feel his eyes on her as she continued reading _1984_. The shop wasn't particularly busy at this time, so she wasn't quite sure why he wasn't just coming to sit with her, but she figured eventually that maybe he was letting off just a little since she came to find him.

It was in that moment that she decided to agree to go for a walk with him tonight, just to get it over with. So when she finished her lunch and coffee, she walked back over to the counter and told him exactly that. "I'll call you once I'm home if I don't run into you."

"That sounds wonderful, Hermione. I look forward to seeing you." His smile was wide and reminded her of her schoolmates on their first visit to Honeydukes during their third year at Hogwarts. But of course she couldn't tell him that. No, she only responded with a smile and swift good-bye before walking out the door and apparating back to the Ministry.

. . . . .

Taking the elevator down to her floor, everything seemed to be the same as she left it, until she arrived at Gracelynn's empty desk. There were voices emerging from her open office door, and thinking the worst, Hermione rushed in with wand out only to find Draco trying—and failing—to calm down a frustrated Gracelynn who was standing with her nose practically pressed against his chin, and one pointed finger jabbed into his chest.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?!" Hermione used a quick separation charm on the two and immediately Gracelynn calmed herself and straightened her jacket. Draco was looking winded and grateful to be relieved of the small and angry girl.

"Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy here wanted to speak to you when you were on your lunch break—"

"It was urgent."

"And as I tell everyone when you are away from your desk that they can leave you a note for when you return, I told him the same. Mr. Malfoy could not take no for an answer and demanded to wait for you in your office and when I said no once more—"

"Seriously, Granger, where did you find even more of a stickler for the rules than you were?"

"May I finish, Mr. Malfoy." Gracelynn clenched her teeth together and Draco smirked before hanging his head and watching his feet as she finished. "As I was saying. Mr. Malfoy then proceeded to step into your office without the consent of either you or myself so I followed him inside, and that is around the time you came along, Ms. Granger."

Not shocked in the slightest by Draco's stubbornness, Hermione praised Gracelynn for her loyalty and dismissed her before turning to scold Draco. "You really need to learn how to get along with people, Malfoy. And Gracelynn is just as stubborn in her loyalty as you are. You weren't about to get rid of her that easily."

"I realized that." He rubbed his chest where her finger had been jabbing him five minutes earlier. "But this wasn't just something I could write a note about and wait around for you to respond to a time to meet. It has to be right now, Granger."

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat as she considered the possibilities. Maybe Harry had been hurt on the job, or Ginny fell from extremely dangerous heights during practice. What if it was one of the Weasleys? Her palms began to sweat. "Wha—what exactly is it that you need to tell me?" She attempted to swallow, but her throat was caught with all of the ailments her friends and family in London could have had to see Draco for.

"Not tell so much as show." He began to lift up his left robe sleeve, and Hermione could already see the darkened tail of a tattoo that had almost permanently disappeared. She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"What does it mean, exactly. We destroyed the Horcruxes. Every single one, there is no way he could have survived. There is no way that Voldemort could still be alive and looking for followers again." Hermione closed her eyes and Draco led her to a chair before pulling up his own.

"I know. I know, it's not possible that he is still alive. But it is possible a Death Eater may have escaped Potter's searches and is attempting to once again bring around another era of dark wizards. I let Potter know and he contacted Weasley and the other Aurors to hold an emergency meeting this afternoon around four. You have to be there, Hermione."

Her head was racing and the only thing that was forcing itself to the surface was Bellatrix Lestrange cursing her in a third war, only to have to remind herself that Bellatrix had been killed in the previous war. She wanted to keep her eyes closed to keep the room from spinning, but every time she closed them, Bellatrix's twisted and delighted expression appeared in front of her eyelids.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay?" Draco's hand was resting on her knee and he had his other hand cupping her distressed face and stroking her cheek.

She could only managed to nod and squeeze her eyes tighter, hoping that by some miracle the darkness would eventually devour Bellatrix's haunting eyes staring into her head.

"Do you want me to stay here with you until the meeting? I left work for the day to help Potter work on this so there is no problem in me sitting with you."

She nodded again and managed to croak out a whispered, "I just need to stop at home quickly. Grab some clothes to change into, maybe call my mum…" Her voice drifted off.

Now it was Draco's turn to nod. "Okay, okay, that sounds reasonable. I'll wait here for you."

Hermione only got up and walked out of the room, giving Gracelynn the rest of the day off and apparating back to her flat to leave Malcolm the one message that would possibly break his heart.

. . . . .

The remainder of the day flew by, and at a quarter to four, a more comfortably dressed and calmer Hermione brought Draco to Harry's office.

Where the meeting was being held was in a well-spaced area with plenty of seats around the circular table. Hermione knew from many stories over dinner that Harry often stood in the middle to talk about important cases. Today was no different.

In a matter of minutes every Auror working in the Ministry had gathered themselves around the table, facing Harry who had perched himself on the edge and was rubbing his temples with his thumbs. Draco went to stand behind him on the outside of the table, and Hermione took an empty chair close to them in case she needed to intervene. Shortly after, Ron arrived and stood behind her, openly glaring at Draco who pretended to be immensely focused on the arriving Aurors.

Once everyone had settled in, Harry began speaking. "I am sure you are all wondering why you were called in from the field, or back to work on your day off. I can assure you I would not do this if there wasn't a dire reason to." Rob shifted uncomfortably behind Hermione, as did some of the Aurors in the large group surrounding them. They knew something was wrong, and those words just confirmed it.

Harry cleared his throat to begin again. "This morning it came to my attention from a colleague of mine—" Draco stepped forward a bit and nodded slightly to the crowd. Many of them glared in his direction, knowing full well who he was. Others had taken the approach Harry and Hermione had adopted and had begun to trust him, as he had saved many of the newer Aurors' lives. Harry took full account of the reaction before continuing. "My colleague, Mr. Malfoy, came to my office before lunch today exclaiming that the Dark Mark on is left arm had suddenly become darker than it had ever been in the last year."

Many began to whisper in the crowd now. There were little hurried whispers and Harry allowed it, but when he began talking again, everything fell silent.

"It is not as dark as it was when Lord Voldemort was alive, which led Mr. Malfoy and I to believe that this was not an act of his. My scar did not burn this morning, and it has not bothered me since the war ended. We believe that this may be a Death Eater that escaped during the war and was not a part of our record system. Someone who had received the Dark Mark but resided elsewhere and did not participate in the war. Quite possibly someone who was kept aside to resurrect Lord Voldemort with Nagini's Horcrux or another that they believed he or she could find before I did."

"I am not telling you this to frighten you. Nor am I telling you to be on high alert or to prepare for a war. I am only telling you so my team will be ready if we need to begin sending out search parties. Mr. Malfoy plans to let me know every time the Mark becomes darker and wishes to fight with us to finally end this once and for all."

Many of the faces staring up at Harry were frightened. Those that fought alongside him in the war looked at him with complete loyalty, knowing full well in their hearts that if Harry had stood before them and asked to fight another war, they would join him. Draco's expression was blank. Ron's was looked passed the crowd with a straight and frustrated gaze. Hermione only watched Harry and how he had been reacting. He led the Aurors with an expression of strength, but there was something behind his eyes that Hermione could not crack. It was not fear, but something closer to confusion, and concern. He was worried.

"Before I let you go, I wish to express one more thing. I do not want you discussing this with anyone outside of this room. Do not tell your loved ones. Not your husband or wife, mother or father, aunt, uncle, brother or sister. The only person who is not currently with us that knows is the Minister of Magic, and I wish to keep it that way so we do not cause a riot. Do you understand?"

They looked at him with quiet stares; each person it seemed was communicating with him telepathically, giving him the answer he was looking for.

"You may go now."

And with those final words, every Auror silently got out of their chairs and began walking back to the Attrium, the only sound surrounding them was that of footsteps, and the old elevator.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Yay, update! Okay so now that I really know what I want to happen with this story, it's beginning to move along some more, and will continue more in the fashion of this chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to write a little bit more now that my writer's block has somewhat dissipated. As always, let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome. :) Also a quick hello to my lovely friend Chelsea who has been bugging me about this next update for weeks. I told you I'd get it updated soon.**

**As always,**

**Beadlebug3**


	13. Chapter 13: Pairing Up

The room cleared out quickly and soon the creaking and sliding of the elevator stopped and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were left in silence. None of them looked at one another, until Harry climbed over the table and sat down in the chair next to Draco, only one away from where Hermione was sitting. He looked as if in that single day he had doubled in age. There were visible bags under his eyes, and the spark that always seemed to be present in his green eyes was much dimmer.

Perhaps though, he had come to look like this after working as an Auror for five years and Hermione neglected to notice the change. It wouldn't shock her that she had missed those subtle changes in his demeanor. They had grown older, and their responsibilities somehow became greater.

Ron was finally the one to break the still silence. "Who else are we allowed to tell about this?"

"No one, Weasley. Potter gave me permission to tell my parents but they were obviously already aware of the situation at hand." He gave Ron a small sneer as he spoke. Hermione wasn't surprised in the slightest that he still had issues with the Weasley family. After all it was Arthur Weasley who had attempted multiple times to catch Lucius Malfoy on the charges of being a Death Eater while the two worked at the Ministry. There will always be tension between the two families.

Surprisingly after that crack, Ron fell silent once more, but continued to glare in his general direction. Obviously getting those two to work together on anything would be a problem.

"Malfoy is right, Ron. It would be best not to let anyone know. I was going to owl McGonagall so that she may partially secure the castle grounds, but I was even going to keep Ginny in the dark on this one. It's just too uncertain at the moment. Too dangerous." His voice trailed off and his eyes met with Hermione's who had been watching him throughout his speech. She realized now that he was scared. He defeated the most powerful dark wizard in the world, and now he may have to do it again if that's what the circumstances came to.

"But we should at least tell the people that were in the Order. We can't just let people start dying."

"Ronald. Stop it." The room fell silent again. Everyone was watching Hermione while she stared at Ron. "Just, stop. He doesn't need this right now."

Ron stared at her, as if he couldn't believe that she was sticking up for Draco and Harry's mindset. "Alright. I'll stop. I won't tell anyone. But when people start dying, don't say I didn't tell you so." Before Hermione had even processed what he just said, he was storming out of the room.

For a second she just sat there, but without even looking at either Harry or Malfoy she jumped from her seat, and—much like she did when he left she and Harry in the woods—went chasing after him.

"Ron, wait! Just wait a second, okay?" Miraculously he stopped in his tracks. They weren't particularly far from the room they had just left, and Hermione was painfully aware that Draco and Harry were actively listening to everything that was going on. "Can we just talk about this without you storming off?"

"Oh, so now you want to talk to me? After avoiding me for weeks and weeks on end? I thought we were going to end on good terms, Hermione. Clearly not though, if you won't even side with me when it comes to making the right choice."

Hermione was stunned. "You think this is about the _divorce_? Ron, if you believe I am trying to get back at you by taking Malfoy's side on this _very important issue_, I might stress, we just might have an issue."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, I'm not that daft. But you know that might be running through my mind since you're not making sensible decisions about this. Oh no. This little event with either a Death Eater of fucking Voldemort is just the cherry on top of my wonderful life. There was the divorce, and never seeing you after that and then reading about you getting all buddy-buddy with Malfoy over there. I mean _honestly_ Hermione. He called you a mudblood for YEARS at school and all of a sudden you're snogging the guy? That's not exactly the type of thing you want your ex-husband to read about over his morning toast."

"Do you really want to go into this now, Ronald? There is some dark and powerful wizard on the loose somewhere and you want to 'discuss' the divorce? Okay, fine. Whatever pleases you. We can talk about the divorce. Because if you think you were the only one hurt by that you have another thing coming you insufferable prick."

Hermione's hands were balled into fists, and she was only inches away from Ron. She could see every freckle on his nose, and when at one point she thought they were cute, now she just found them infuriating. Everything about him was. He was lazy. He never thought about others and their feelings. He was daft. Hermione was so angry she began questioning why she had even married him in the first place.

"This isn't really the time or place to be discussing this. Maybe you can come to my new flat one day and we'll talk." He had noticed the fire in her eyes and began backing away, but Hermione was not done with him.

"Oh no shit this isn't the time or place to be discussing our divorce. Did you just think of that now, Ronald? Did it just occur to you that maybe we have bigger things on our hands than just our shitty life together? Because job well done if you have. But you know I do have something to say. You always back away when things get tough. Every single time you do. With finding the horcruxes. Being an Auror. Even our relationship was something that fell onto the back-burner of Ronald Weasley's life. That's just who you are, and it's absolutely maddening. If things get difficult, even for one second, you run away from it."

"But all of those times I came back, Hermione! And I'm not running away from this case or you."

"Ronald you were gone the day you decided to get those divorce papers."

Before Ron could even respond, Hermione turned on her heel and walked back into the conference area to find the silent and staring pair watching as she took her seat and put her head in her hands.

. . . . .

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry was the first to speak this time, gently leaning towards her and preparing to comfort her or run away, whichever the circumstances called for.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm just frustrated is all."

There wasn't much any of them could do about Ron at the time being. They hadn't heard the elevator begin to move, but he hadn't come back into the room either.

"Well then we should move on to the next item regarding this issue." Harry stood and began pacing, thinking as he walked. Hermione looked up to find Draco watching her, and nudged him to let him know she was okay. Being not as well versed in physical speaking as Harry, Ron, and she were, he raised his eyebrow in question. As she made a motion to forget about it, Harry continued. "In relation to what Ron was talking about, I was thinking about breaking the four of us into two groups to just keep an eye on things. It'll be easier to process any information as well if we're always in touch with one another. And well, since Hermione and Ron obviously can't work together…"

Harry looked sheepishly towards Hermione who pretended not to hear the guilt and apologetic tone. "And since Malfoy and Ron don't get along, we'll have to work it out in the only way possible. Which would mean Ron and I would be collaborating, and you two would be working together."

He looked at the pair as if to confirm whether or not they thought it was a decent idea, and when neither objected, he nodded and clapped his hands together. "Alright, good. Then you two will need to be in touch a lot more often. _The Prophet_ will probably make it seem like you're dating—"

"As if they haven't done that well enough already."

Harry ignored the comment of a newly emerged Ron and continued."—So please don't get angry if it continues. It's easier to lie about a relationship than it is to cover up a story this large. And you know every reporter will be all over us if any rumor gets out. So please, do what you can to keep this on the down-low."

The three nodded in agreement.

"Good. Good… So I guess just keep us updated, okay you two? If anything happens with that—" he pointed to Draco's Dark Mark. "—I want to know about it. Also one last thing, Hermione. You've been temporarily transferred to my department so you will not be receiving any work for yours until this entire thing is over. Your office will be shared by you and Malfoy, so please make sure he and Gracelynn don't have another spat."

Hermione blushed but nodded, making a mental note to remind Malfoy to behave when she got a moment alone with him.

Concluding the meeting, Harry shook their hands and gave Hermione a deep hug, apologizing for any trouble Ron was causing her. She had missed the connection the two of them had while at Hogwarts and wanted it back, without any of the conflicts that arose with her divorce or dating. Everything was so much simpler when she was sixteen and heartbroken; not twenty-three and alone.

Harry and Ron left relatively soon after, leaving the new duo of Draco and Hermione alone in the conference room.

"I hope this wasn't disrupting your evening plans."

Draco was watching her carefully, trying to figure out what was in her head. She wasn't saying anything. She just looked ahead and told him, "No, I can always reschedule. He'll be there again."

"Oh, so it was a man?" His intrigue brought Hermione's eyes to his, and surprisingly she found a hint of disappointment in his features. He continued to watch her, and what she thought was emotion quickly disappeared with a blink of his grey eyes.

"Well, yes. But it wasn't a date or anything. We were just meeting up, and having a chat. We're floor-mates. Sort of like a neighbor outing."

"I wouldn't have guessed someone who works as hard as you would have time for 'neighbor outings.' Very unusual." He smiled at her in that sly way she was beginning to get used to. Her smile back was small but genuine.

"I have _some_ personal life. I do believe I spent some time with you where the _Prophet_ thought the two of us to be dating."

Draco nodded and began pacing the room, periodically checking his wrist and watching the now still Dark Mark that plagued his skin. Hermione herself had hardly noticed it the more they got together. He could roll his sleeves up and it would just become a bit of the background. But now, now it stood out much more prominently than it had, and Hermione couldn't help but follow it with her eyes whenever it was within her line of sight.

"We should go somewhere and discuss this. Your flat, or mine. I told Potter that we would begin working presently on this issue, researching the previous places Voldemort had hidden and things like that. I have all of the books we might need at the manor, but I can send them all to your flat and we can work there, if that would make you more comfortable?"

Hermione agreed that it might be the smartest decision. Especially when she had the various enchantments set on her flat, unlike Malfoy who admitted that his apartment wasn't protected enough in the muggle way, let alone the magical way. The pair decided to part ways for the time being while Hermione prepared the flat and Draco went back to the manor to retrieve the various books his father had kept in secret from his mother for years on end, protecting the secrets Voldemort so carefully hid away. His father would always be a Death Eater, but now was the time for Draco to finally break away from that.

. . . . .

Within minutes, Hermione was back in the lobby of her apartment building hurrying up the stairs. She had given Draco an address to where he could safely apparate, and further directions so he could get to her door. It wasn't particularly late in the day, so she assumed Malcolm was either out and about or in his apartment, and either way she did not want to run into him, especially with Draco on his way very soon with far too many magical documents that could expose their entire world.

She was grateful when she reached her apartment that there was no one around and silently said an _alohamora _to let herself inside. Everything was just as she had left it that morning: clean and clutter free. With this being the first—and quite possibly not the last—time he's seen her apartment, she wanted to make sure her living space gave off the right impression. It was silly of her to believe that, she knew, but there was something comforting about it as well. If Draco thought she lived in a respectable and organized home, maybe he would deem her good enough to do this right and without distraction.

Then again, he did go to Hogwarts with her, and her intelligence and work ethic is what stood out most to people. So maybe she was crazier than she thought.

While she waited, Hermione changed into cozier clothes and poured them each some wine to drink while they poured over the countless facts of Voldemorts existence. And when Draco arrived, she realized they would have a lot more work on their hands than she originally thought.

Draco arrived at the flat with his arms and bag filled with papers and books that his father, various Death Eaters, and even Voldemort himself had kept at one point or another. Hermione went to get the wine while Draco cleared off space on the coffee table for the two of them to jump into their work, and jump into it they did. Most of the time they were silent as they worked, occasionally pointing out one fact or another they thought to be relevant: arguing over what was important and what wasn't, debating the complications of living in certain areas he once did. There were hundreds of things to be discussed and debated, and the pair of them went after every reason, checking and double-checking one another's facts.

The two created a system together that worked well. The only thing that had managed to stop them was the quickly changing time, and the little alcohol that was left between the two of them. Taking a break, Draco said, "We really need to stop doing this to ourselves. It's not going to help in the slightest."

Hermione's slightly drunk brain somehow managed to nod, but it was true that she agreed with him. It felt like to her, that every time they did something alone together they managed to get somewhat drunk, and it wasn't something Hermione was proud of.

"Why don't we take a break, or something," she suggested. The two were drunk enough at that point that no matter what information they took in it wouldn't stick, and Draco agreed.

"I think we need it." Hermione downed the rest of her glass and put her head on the table, arms blocking out the light from the room. Draco continued to watch her, until asking, "is that the sweater I leant to you?"

Jumping up from her daze, Hermione turned red almost instantly, remembering that she had subconsciously put it on because it was so comfortable and casually lying on her bed begging to be worn when she went to change. "You, you can have it back if you really want."

Draco shook his head no. "It looks good on you anyway. Keep it."

In that moment, Hermione could have sworn she passed out and was dreaming, but Draco really had complimented her, and he was staring at her intently, cheeks slightly flushed under his pale demeanor

She inched her body closer to him, completely ignoring the piles of papers and books and pushing work right out of her mind. Draco leaned down to look at her closer, and his buzzed mind let slip that he thought she looked beautiful in his sweater. The both of them blushed incredibly, neither having words to cover up what Draco had just said, and yet neither could look away from the other.

It was an odd setting for them to be doing this in. Sure, they had the almost finished bottle of wine between them, but the lights were bright, and everything Draco could dig up on the world's most powerful dark wizard was surrounding them. It wasn't exactly romantic, but neither seemed to notice what was going on in the flat around them. The only thing that existed were one another, and that Draco's hands were beginning to cup Hermione's face, and she was about to let him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Muahahaha I'm an evil writer and am leaving you with a cliffhanger, unbeknownst to what will happen next.**

**BUT. There is a reason for my being a horrid person and leaving it so delicately hanging there precariously at the edge of a cliff.**

**While ****_I_**** know what I'm going to write for the next chapter (and how this beautiful beginning with conclude) I want to hear what you guys think. Your opinions are very important to me, and I love hearing predictions and what you like/dislike about each chapter. Write me a short novel if you so wish! I read every single comment on this story, and I wish I had more. So get typing! I promise I don't bite.**

**With love,**

**Beadlebug3**


	14. Chapter 14: Hardly any Progress

After Hermione left the shop, Malcolm was practically walking on air. He wasn't exactly sure what he should call their outing together. It was just a walk, so it couldn't be a date. Then again though, he didn't know much about this girl in general, other than her impeccable taste in books. So maybe she thought it was one.

He was hoping to run into her in the lobby on the way up to his flat, but she was nowhere to be seen on his walk home or in the lobby or elevator. He was at a complete loss, and hoped that she was still at work so that he wouldn't get stood up.

The hallway of their floor was empty and absolutely silent, as per usual. Malcolm didn't think much about it and wandered inside his flat to check his messages, or await a call from the girl he was going on a not-date with. Once he was settled in, he casually checked his messages not thinking anything of them. There was one from his mum reminding him of a family party that was happening that weekend, and his dentist asking him to reschedule an appointment he had made months ago. The last though was the only one he listened to consciously.

Her voice was cold and apologetic, but there was still a hint of the voice he had gotten to know in the shop underneath all she was trying mask it with. Malcolm sighed heavily and deleted the message, making mental notes to call back his dentist and mother the next morning.

"It's a shame the little minx couldn't meet up with you. She sounded cute, too."

Malcolm sighed again and without even turning around said, "Keenan, I do wish you'd use the door. Or wait until I get home before springing in on me like this." He turned around to find a tall, darkly dressed man sitting on his couch. He didn't particularly blend in with Malcolm's living room, but it had always been a gift of his stepbrother's to seemingly disappear within his surroundings.

"But that would take away from the fun." His smile was dark, and the longer Malcolm looked at his brother, the more he could tell that his living had not been easy. His long black hair was disheveled and sticking up in various places, and his black robes were trailing dirt all over the floors. The only thing about him that appeared to be clean were his piercing blue eyes. Although Malcolm knew that they had seen their fair share of dirty and dark things over the years.

"What even are you doing here in my part of town? I know how much you dislike my kind. Unless you need a favor. Oh this oughta be good. Mr. Magic needs assistance from his powerless baby brother."

"Well, yes and no. I do need a place to live, which is where you come in. But I also want to protect you."

"Protect me? What in god's name could you protect me from? You said that wizard you followed was dead now. Has been for five years, hasn't he?"

Keenan smiled at his little brother with a look Malcolm had never seen before in his eyes. "Well yes. But now _I_ will be leading the Death Eaters into war against Harry Potter and that little minx that was just on the phone. Oh, you didn't know she was a witch, did you? Well five years ago she fought in the second Wizarding war, and before you know it, I will be bringing about the third. So I'd get that date with her in while you still can."

. . . . .

Before they parted, Hermione had warned Draco about coming in through the front door. He was almost offended that she thought he didn't know that much about Muggle society, but then he rethought it and kept his mouth shut. So before he left the manor, he organized it so that anything with visible pictures was either in the middle of his pile or inside his bag, and everything that didn't already have a silencing charm on it received one.

Apparating there wasn't hard, and it seemed as though the Muggles on the busy street were oblivious to him as he stepped out of the alleyway and into the building Hermione had said was hers. The lobby was empty, but just as he was getting into the elevator, a man with hair as Hermione described ran into it.

"Sorry about that, mate. I just didn't want to have to wait for the elevator if it was still there. Floor?"

Not wanting to give away that he was going to Hermione's just in case it was the neighbor she had mentioned to him, Draco decided to play dumb. "Ah well, you know I'm just visiting a colleague of mine and I can never remember what bloody floor he lives on. I think it's three but I can never be sure."

"Sorry, I can't help you there. I barely know the people on my own floor, let alone those on the other ones. Good luck finding him, though. I wish front desk was there more often sometimes. Blasted rotten security." The man hit the third floor button, and then thankfully right after hit the seventh floor button.

When the elevator reached the third floor, Draco gave the man a curt nod and proceeded to warily walk the hall to Hermione's door. All was quiet, as he had presumed. She enjoyed her quiet while she worked, so he assumed a silencing charm must have been encompassing the entire floor. _Clever._

He knocked carefully and Hermione answered the door in the sweater he had allowed her to borrow. He hoped that the slight smile that appeared on his lips did not give him away, and instead made her think that he was just being polite. He could never tell what she noticed and didn't with him.

She brought out some wine and they quickly went to work. Everything he had brought had been carefully hidden in the manor, and with both of his parents out for dinner, it was easy for Draco to round all of the evidence up and hurry to Hermione's flat. His father, Lucius, had taken to keeping precious items of his hidden in his bedroom, to which this day he rarely left unless his wife persuaded him. He felt that by putting this incriminating evidence in the Gringotts vault the family shared, Draco would have a much easier time getting it out and into the public eye. Little did he know that his son was as sneaking and conniving as he had raised him to be.

They worked for what felt like hours, and it was then that Hermione suggested they take a break and relax their brains. They had hardly gone through a quarter of the material Draco had brought over, and more than half of what they had gone through hadn't even been looked through properly because of alcohol-induced brains.

"I think we need it," Draco mentioned as Hermione downed the remainder of her drink. She put her head on the coffee table, and it was then that Draco brought up the sweater.

"You, you can have it back if you really want." Her blush always made Draco feel uncomfortable, but in that way most people would call affection. He wasn't used to the feeling, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling it.

Shaking his head, Draco said, "It looks good on you anyway. Keep it." He could feel his cheeks flushing, but he didn't care for once in his life. He was with a beautiful girl who couldn't stop staring at him, and it could have been the alcohol that made him do it, but he told her just that.

The compliment made his cheeks burn brighter, as it did hers, but her body was sliding closer to his—was he the one moving or her?—and his hands were reaching out to cup her cheeks. She wasn't stopping him. This was happening. Draco was lost in her eyes and when his palms connected to her cheeks, there was an electric charge surging between his fingers and buzzing down his arms.

Ever so slowly he lowered his lips to hers, and after an eternity of waiting their lips met and Hermione was melting into him. Her body was stiff at first but then felt as if every muscle disappeared from her physique and she was leaning slightly into him, her lips soft against his. Once he got the taste though, Draco wanted more. He ran his fingers through her hair feeling every soft curl and wave that he could get his hands on, and the feeling only intensified when one of her hands met his cheek.

The two were falling over one another even though they had barely moved from their original spots on the floor. Each kiss brought more hunger from Draco and small moans escaped his lips. He didn't want to go too fast with her, or push her in the slightest, but there was something about the way she kissed him that made him wish she would wake up in his bed that night.

He began to move one of his hands to her waist and slowly under her shirt up her side when she suddenly pulled away from him. Her brown eyes seemed to clear and she stood up and backed away from him. Draco stood and started fiddling with her hair, watching as she grabbed her forehead and moaned into the palms of her hands.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Hermione wouldn't answer him. She was muttering something to herself, but because of her hands blocking her mouth he couldn't understand any of it.

"Hermione, please tell me what's wrong."

She removed her hands from in front of her mouth and finally began speaking at an audible volume. "We can't do this. We most certainly can _not_ be doing this."

She began to pace the room, walking back and forth in front of Draco who could do nothing but run his fingers through his hair and watch her. She was still wearing his sweater. She hadn't stopped him when he kissed her. Those had to be signs of something being there between them, even just confused rebound feelings from after the divorce. Draco didn't care what he was to her as long as he could see her, at least sometimes. He was sick of hiding these feelings, especially from himself. He didn't remember when he began thinking the pictures of her in the _Prophet_ were cute and sexy. He just suddenly knew that she was, and that even one more kiss could be enough to satisfy himself.

"Draco. This is madness. We are _colleagues_ now. The Wizarding world is in a _shitload_ of trouble and we are doing, doing _this_." She finally stopped pacing and looked at him with fearful eyes. She hadn't been expecting the kiss, he knew, but she seemed more afraid of what she felt than what he had done. At least, that's what Draco hoped. But within seconds her eyes turned to anger and she marched towards him until her nose was inches from his.

"You _HATED_ me, Draco Malfoy. Hated me for years and years at school. You called me a mudblood. You made fun of me endlessly at Hogwarts and for what? Are you going to go back to your friends and say 'I'm easy'? That after all these years someone 'cracked' the infamous, studious, pretentious mudblood Granger? Augh, this is so _INFURIATING_, Malfoy. And to think, for a second there I thought we would get along just fine without our past getting in the way—"

"Hold up just a second there. I would never, in a millions years manipulate someone's feelings in that way. Yes, I was a horrible person back at Hogwarts. But that last year everything changed for me. I didn't want to be a part of that any more. Why the hell do you think I've gone and told Potter about my fucking arm then if I hadn't changed? Potter saved my life, and my mother saved his. We're even now, and I would never do this to you for any other reason than the obvious."

For once, Hermione was without words. She still looked intensely at him, but the gaze was somewhat softer than before. "I'm sorry I accused you of that. It could be the alcohol letting my brain run wild. Why don't we call it a night."

"Do you want to at least discuss what happened just now? We can't let it hang there forever." Truth be told, Draco didn't want to leave just yet. Yes, for once in his life he wanted to talk through something, but it was only because he couldn't get inside her head.

"Tomorrow over breakfast, when our heads are little clearer. You're welcome to stay on the couch. I'm sorry I don't have a spare bed to give you." With that she bid him goodnight and wandered into a hallway. "Oh and Draco."

His head perked up some from where he was standing. He didn't know what he wanted to hear, but it certainly wasn't what she said next. "The bathroom is just down here if you need it." And then she was gone. Draco heard a door open and shut once more before there was absolute silence in the flat. There wasn't much he could do about the situation except organize the information they had gone through and make himself comfortable under the blanket that she had draped so carefully over the edge of the couch.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hey lovelies. Here's another update *gasp* ONE DAY AFTER THE LAST ONE. Whaaaaaat. **

**Anyway, I would like to congratulate ****Kallanit**** for guessing Malcolm's purpose in this story somewhat correctly. Or at least, how he would relate to the issue at hand. I want to know what you guys think of Keenan (whose name means sharp, by the way). I was sort of modeling him off of Benedict Cumberbatch's role as Khan in the newest Star Trek (or at least his voice ish. And slightly his appearance. *swoon*) but I want to see what you guys think of him as a character, how you initially picture him, etc. **

**In relation to Panic! at the Disco's new song and the end of this chapter, WHERE WILL YOU BE WAKING UP TOMORROW MORNING, OUT THE BACKDOOR GODDAMN BUT I LOVE HER ANYWAY.**

**Fangirling hardcore, as always,**

**Beadlebug3**


	15. Chapter 15: Uneasy Run-ins

_The road to Hogwarts was quiet. The trees stood without moving on either side, and the gate had been blown to bits. The sky was red as the blood dripping down the dirt pathway, and Hermione could see a figure moving within the trees, getting closer and closer. She was stuck where she was, at the center of the gate awaiting what was to come. When the figure was in eyesight, she could see it wasn't just one, but a parade of people. Hagrid was carrying someone in his arms, that much she knew, but there was too much that was still concealed from her view. As they moved closer, she could see it was Voldemort and his troupe, the same as during the second war. Hagrid was carrying Harry in his arms. Except this time there was blood up and down his torso. It was a wizard death and Muggle, to finish the job. The only other difference, was that Malfoy was leading the troupe next to Voldemort, his hands and torso covered with the blood that laced the ground._

Hermione woke up shaking and sweaty, as she usually did from nightmares. The flat was silent though, just the way she usually liked to keep it. Although this particular morning she missed the sounds and smells of her parents' home in Australia. Waking up there was like being a kid again, and there was nothing Hermione wanted more than to crawl into her mother's bed and sleep at her side. But she had to remind herself that she was just an apparation or phone call away.

She wrapped her arms around herself and proceeded to walk towards the bathroom where she found the door shut and water running. Without thinking twice of whom exactly might be in her shower, she snuck into the bathroom and raised her wand to a defensive position. Within seconds she had pulled the curtain back and screamed, "_STUPEFY_." Yet to her horror, she found a naked Malfoy staring at her with wide eyes and shocked expression on his face.

"Oh god. Oh god oh god oh bloody fucking hell what have I _done_?" Hermione began running around in circles in her small bathroom, trying desperately to only look up, and constantly having to remind herself to do so. "Oh god oh god I can't just _leave_ him like this…" The water was still spraying onto his shoulders, and as hard as she tried to assess the situation without really looking at the crime scene, she couldn't help but notice the slight scars on his torso and how toned he was despite his skinny frame.

_Stop it, Hermione! He is a human being, not a piece of meat, stop looking!_ Eventually she decided to turn the water off and put a towel around his shoulders, reminding herself to only look at his shoulders up so he wouldn't notice her wandering eyes.

With the towel around him, Hermione pulled out her want once more and whispered, "Rennervate" with her wand tip pointed to his chest. When the incantation ended, she sprinted from the bathroom and shut the door behind her, opting to just wait and see whether or not the spell worked than to stick around and wait for him to become conscious once more. She hurried into the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee, trying to get the shape of him out of her mind.

_Why didn't you remember he spent the night? How the hell could that have slipped your mind? Oh god this is so mortifying, we won't be able to work together on this case all because I forgot he had slept over._

With her mind racing, she neglected to hear a now fully clothed Draco come into the kitchen.

"Hermione?"

She couldn't turn around to face him. Her cheeks were still burning from when she had walked in on him. "I started making some coffee. We could probably just apparate into the Ministry together and get right to work."

"Hermione," there was a slight laugh in his voice. "Don't you think we ought to talk about what just happened? Ignoring it just makes it seem more awkward."

Hermione nearly dropped the coffee pot bringing it over to the table. Her hair was blocking her eyes and Draco had to hold back a laugh as she became more and more embarrassed by the second. From her view looking at the ground, she could see he had redressed in the clothing he had worn the day before. As much as she wanted this whole situation up in the air and forgotten about, she couldn't bring herself to speak to him. So she hid behind her wall of hair and poured them each a mug of coffee.

"Did you at least like what you saw?" Hermione spilled half of the coffee onto the table and starred up into his smirking eyes. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

"What did you just ask me?"

"I just asked, did you at least like what you saw in there? No one, not even the infamous Hermione Granger, would ever be able to keep themselves from sneaking a peak if someone was naked in front of them." It took Hermione a second to realize he was teasing her, and she couldn't do anything but stand there and stare at him, wondering how in God's name she'll ever be able to speak to him again.

"It-I, uhm. I didn't really look." _Really. That's all you can come up with? Come on, Granger, you're better than this! _Draco's eyebrows rose as she stared at him. His grey eyes were laughing at her, and she pursed her lips in disagreement of what he might be thinking. "Actually, you're not really my type." She crossed her arms and smiled smugly as he scoffed at her.

"As if, Granger. Contrary to _your_ belief, I am everyone's type. Especially yours."

"And why do you think that, Malfoy?"

"Because if I wasn't your type, you wouldn't have let me stay on your couch. Or let me kiss you last night. Which is another thing we should talk about, while we're on the subject." Hermione was embarrassed and blushing again. Just thinking about the amount of times she's blushed because of him made her cheeks turn even redder. "And you blush every time I mention something that may or may not turn you on? You're very easily flustered, Ms. Granger." His smile was pursed so delicately it tempted Hermione to reach out and touch Draco's lips.

Suddenly though, she snapped out of her daze and really looked him in the eyes. "Draco, what are we doing? We have a case to work on, and we're standing in my kitchen teasing one another for sport when we don't know what's going on in the world."

Draco took a step back and ran a hand through is wet hair. He sheepishly looked at his feet and the smile that was only a second ago on his lips had disappeared. "You're right. This is stupid. I just enjoyed being able to tease you again, but not in a way that would hurt, you know? You're still Granger, not much has really changed."

Slightly taken aback, Hermione nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Shall I head home to dress and meet you at your office then?"

Hermione nodded, not particularly sure why all of a sudden his playful attitude had disappeared. We were off hours, but she supposed what she had said hit home. He wanted to do better, and be better. And that meant working hard and getting it out there that he's fighting for the good guys.

"And do be sure Gracelynn does not hex me upon my arrival." He gave Hermione a curt smile before disappearing into thin air.

Hermione simply waved her wand to clean the mess of coffee and began organizing by hand the documents she presumed Draco would want to discuss that day. Strangely though, keeping herself busy did not comfort her as she expected, and she went into the bathroom feeling more alone than ever.

. . . . .

The Ministry was busy that morning, as per usual. But whereas most mornings there were Aurors running to and fro between the fires and the elevator, this morning she could not spot one in the crowds. She assumed many were already in the field, prematurely searching for something Harry didn't even know he was looking for.

Sighing at the circumstances, she rode the elevator to her office and politely said good morning to all of those that worked under her supervision. Her temporary replacement, Dennis Burt, was busily scribbling on a piece of parchment and barely raised his head to return her hello as he furiously went through the tall pile that should have been on Hermione's desk that morning.

Harry had spoken to her before she arrived home the previous night to let her know that no one in her department knew the actual circumstances of her stepping away from the job, but that Dennis was now in charge and she was not to be disturbed as she was working on a confidential case for their section. The key word being confidential, so that no one demanded to be let in on the details and wish for Hermione to allow them to help. So for now everyone acknowledged her being there, but no one ventured farther than a hello or good morning.

Hermione was glad to see those that worked under her following orders so carefully, however she felt that part of it was that they had received a memo from the famous Harry Potter and wanted to please him as much as they could. They must have been told to not interfere with the media either and blab about what they though they knew, because the front page of the _Prophet_ was surprisingly not either her or Harry.

Reaching her desk, Hermione found a cross looking Gracelynn and sullen Draco who as standing next to the receptionist desk with his arms crossed.

"Ms. Granger he was attempting to infiltrate your office again. Luckily I had come in early enough to be here before he could even try." Gracelynn's gaze fell onto Draco and she looked at him in utter disgust. He on the other hand attempted to ignore her.

"Thank you, Gracelynn. However Mr. Malfoy and I will be working together on this confidential project. So if he is here during normal work hours, please allow him access to my office. I have nothing to hide from him."

Gracelynn nodded as Hermione dragged Draco into the office and shut the door behind him.

"Honestly, the two of your are like small children." She dropped her purse that had all of the work Draco had brought to her flat the night before and began cleaning off her desk so the two could comfortably work. "I don't know why she dislikes you so much more than the others. But nevertheless, she'll learn to like you."

"Oh, she already does. Trust me."

Hermione turned to face Draco who had the same smug smile from that morning plastered on his face. He was oddly relaxed with this conversation. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you Granger. Everyone is my type. She hates me so much that she secretly wants to bang me. Simple as that."

"You're a pig. Please don't have sex with my receptionist."

Shrugging his shoulders, Draco sat across from Hermione as she began pulling papers and books out of her bag. Without speaking, the two began to dig into the work between them, hoping that soon they would have some clue as to where this mysterious man could be hiding, and stop whatever he was planning to do before it even began.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay there are just a few things i want to address here that I was reading about in the review section. I strongly urge everyone to read this simply because it gives some information about future chapters and what you should all be expecting, and they include matters that are important to me as the writer that I feel you all should be aware of.**

**Number one.**** I had one reviewer tell me not to use the word shit in my writing. Firstly I would like to apologize if I offended said reviewer in any way, shape, or form. It was not my intention. But dear reviewer, if you are uncomfortable with swearing you should not be reading this fic. I will be swearing a lot, especially with Draco and Ron as they are more vocal with that sort of thing. ****This is an RATED M fic.**** That means there will be swearing. There will be sex and smut in great detail. If that makes you uncomfortable, do not read my fic. This will be your only warning because it says "RATED M FOR FUTURE CONTENT" in the description. **

**Number two.**** Draco's character is still in development. He was never this nice or forgiving ever in his life. He is in the process of becoming a better person, which means he will have slip ups, like calling Hermione a mudblood in his thoughts. He can't always control these things. It takes time to change ones perspective. To the reviewer calling my characterization faulty, I would like to say it is not. Because Draco is a) not my character, and b) not a perfect human being. Eventually he will develop passed that phase, but at the moment he is still sort of in the mindset that he was at Hogwarts. He has not completed his transformation.**

**Number three.**** I will not tolerate character bashing, OTP bashing, or any sort of bashing whatsoever on my review page. One reviewer said, "Ron is a famewhore and an idiot" and while I do not ship Romione or believe they should be together, he is still a beloved character of JK Rowling's and I want each and every one of my readers to respect her characters and others' pairings. There is absolutely no reason for anyone to be saying that about Ron. Sure, I made him a little hot headed, but if any of you have read ****_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**** (which for the love of all that is good if you have not get the fuck off of fanfiction and go read it my god) he is hotheaded and storms out. He doesn't always think and while he can be an arse, he is still one of my favorite characters. There is a reason I did not follow what most Dramione writers do with Ron and have him cheat on Hermione. Ron is not the bad guy in this fic. He is not the bad guy in any of the ****_Harry Potter_**** novels. He will not be made the bad guy in my fanfiction. DO NOT BASH CHARACTERS IF THEY ARE NOT PART OF YOUR OTP OR GET IN THE WAY OF YOUR OTP.**

**Number four.**** Golden Trio is used in the books and movies and I'm trying to stay true to the books as much as I can. I don't care if it sounds fannish or what. It is canon and I'm going to use it.**

**Lastly, reviewer Snakegirl98 is absolutely fantastic and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about your fangirling over my fic and fangirling about me fangirling. I like being able to relate to all of you in some way, which is partially why I write these Author's Notes in the first place. Also I am very jealous that you are going to see Panic! If I could go with you I most definitely would.**

**I apologize for this being so long and if I sound snippy, but many of my reviews were ones that made me upset and like you guys weren't really getting what I'm trying to write here in this fic. Granted, I had many wonderful reviews that were both greatly helpful for constructive criticism (which I welcome with open arms) and just you guys going all fangirl about my writing which makes me extremely happy. Please keep giving me reviews, I really do love reading them and having you all get involved.**

**Yours, Beadlebug3**


End file.
